by Marie Harbon
I managed to keep away from Max’s parties for a while, despite the invitations, but it wasn’t easy because Max didn’t believe in monogamy. Although Elizabeth and I still enjoyed such pleasures as meals at restaurants, and nights at the theatre or cinema, the magic wasn’t there by the milestone of six months. Her idiosyncrasies, chain smoking, and untidiness became all too vexing, however, Elizabeth stayed, demonstrating that security was more important than happiness. I began to wonder if I’d been too rash in showing her the cottage, but a year in, Elizabeth’s unexpected appearance at one of the parties concluded the matter. She found me engaged in oral pleasures with Eve and took great offence, despite the fact that these parties had brought us together in the first place, and her appearance here suggested her own temptation to wander. A week later, I had the cottage to myself. Breaking up was not always hard to do.
Parties became my only source of female companionship, which made life much less complicated.
Research continued, this time into the effects of an electromagnetic field on the human organism. This particular study, from conception to culmination lasted a few years, with other projects running concurrent and new projects created as offshoots. I applied both low and high frequency electro-magnetic fields to humans and animals. Some of the low frequency fields had deleterious side effects, which included incontinence and vomiting, and in animals, I instigated a greater range of frequencies, which resulted in cardiac arrest. Higher frequencies in humans caused disorientation and confusion, quite distressing to the volunteers and in retrospect, my detachment surprised me. Did I regard this treatment of living things normal behaviour?
I also investigated the use of electromagnetic radiation, to see if it could erase memories. The results were inconclusive, but it paved the way for further experiments on the use of EM fields for mind control, the manipulation of individual mental states and alteration of brain function. I gathered evidence which suggested that certain frequencies could create anxiety and influence psychosis, generally make the mind more pliable.
During this time, I lost my role model, a twentieth century icon. I listened to the Bakelite radio in the evening, an art deco beauty in teak from the 1930s with two dials, as it was my only real contact with the world outside of The Establishment. On the night of the 19th of April 1955, I followed a poignant broadcast.
“The eminent scientist and originator of the theory of relativity, Albert Einstein, died yesterday in hospital in Princeton, New Jersey, aged 76. He was admitted to hospital three days previously, suffering with an internal complaint, but he refused surgery for a ruptured artery. In 1940, he became a US citizen after leaving Germany during the early years of the war. In a statement just released, US President Dwight Eisenhower paid tribute to the visionary and respected scientist.”
The broadcast cut to the voice of the president.
“’ No other man contributed so much to the vast expansion of twentieth century knowledge. Yet, no other man was more modest in the possession of the power that is knowledge, more sure that power without wisdom is deadly. To all who live in the nuclear age, Albert Einstein exemplified the mighty creative ability of the individual in a free society.’”
I also caught the broadcast on the television, which showed a black and white reel of Albert Einstein at various stages of his scientific life, a man who never shook his German accent or his desire for seclusion. It was truly a sad day for me, and for physics. Who’d complete his Unified Field Theory?
Life went on though, as did the research. I also became involved in the British sibling of MK-ULTRA, a necessity in response to the allegations of Soviet, Chinese, and North Korean mind control techniques on US prisoners of war in Korea. Much of the research conducted focused on the use of chemical substances to alter brain function, particularly LSD. I made attempts to increase extra-sensory perception, withstand torture and coercion during interrogation, employ brain washing techniques, and even induce psychic powers. Experiments with LSD were commonplace, although later I suspected members of the public were exposed to it without their knowledge or consent. I also oversaw some experiments using sensory deprivation tanks and their effect upon the mind.
During these years, I experimented with LSD myself. I took it one day in June 1956 when it was still legal, at home, alone. I created a soft ambience and ingested a small dose of the drug, in an attempt to recreate Albert Hoffman’s now famous ‘Bicycle Day.’ After a short while of riding a bike under the influence, my limbs soon became weak and my perspective of reality too distorted to pedal along safely.
I sat down in a field near home, and became aware of the complexity of the folds in my trousers. I must have spent a while trying to fathom why they fell the way they did, appreciating their intricate beauty. Objects around me began to oscillate, particularly the spokes of the bicycle which now lay on its side. The spokes moved about, drawing together and separating in a rhythmic vibration. I contemplated the dance of the neutrons and electrons within them, vividly remembering my lectures back in the late forties. The flowers in the field shone with an inner light, shimmering as if they were breathing, and I became fascinated with each and every breath.
By now, the drug had reached its full strength, and I found myself enjoying a trip that was rather intense but full of vibrant colours, sounds, and strange visual effects. I closed my eyes to witness a scene of beautiful kaleidoscopic colours, and when my eyes opened, I saw fireworks in the sky. When I moved my hand, it left trails so I spent a good hour or two moving my limbs around and watching the visual effects, not that I had any sense of time whatsoever.
Buying a pint of milk from the shop proved to be very difficult as people’s faces were distorted, which made me laugh uncontrollably, much to the consternation of the other customers. So I cycled back home, wobbling erratically as I tried to avoid the white lines in the road that had become writhing serpents. I found myself back in the study of my cottage, resting in my favourite armchair and listening to the layers of music coming from the gramophone. In turn, a particular instrument became dominant, drowning my senses, then another instrument received my focus and went through the same process. The books on the shelves tried to speak to me, shining with their inner light and wanting to fly towards me, pregnant with knowledge. Eventually, I drifted towards sleep and a lucid dream.
All in all, it had been a positive experience, and one I repeated several times in different settings. It was truly a remarkable substance, one that could easily drive someone insane though, a view I shared with the author, Aldous Huxley.
My time at The Establishment formed some powerful memories and mixed emotions, but I could never leave. Max had been correct, it was my destiny.
However, another interest lurked in the background. I frequently used the Bakelite radio as a background to typing up reports, as it allowed me to follow the world’s events. On October 4th 1957, the Russians launched Sputnik 1. It was the first ever man made satellite to go into orbit, with a mission to study the Earth’s atmosphere. Completing an orbit of the Earth in around ninety six minutes, it emitted a fast beep, beep, beep sound transmitted at twenty megahertz, very easy to tune into. I listened to the beeps numerous times, until Sputnik’s battery died after twenty two days. It revitalised my interest in the cosmos and I wondered if we’d make it into space during my lifetime. It began to look that way.
Back in my life of research, I reached a point of consolidation. Despite the fact I’d performed countless experiments on my subjects throughout the last decade, one particular volunteer tripped my fuse on a fateful day in the autumn of 1959.
A young female student had offered herself to the study where I attempted to induce psychic powers through the application of electromagnetic fields. She sat in the chair, surrounded by equipment and for some reason, looked me straight in the eye.
In that moment, I sensed her apprehension, as if she’d not really volunteered for the study at all. Nevertheless, I switched on the field and began to observe, scribbli
ng notes. She kept staring at me, drawing me into her world, sucking me into her experience. I watched as the anxiety progressed into full blown panic. I tasted her fear, felt her heart pound, and my stomach somersaulted with hers.
Ceasing my scribble, I watched as her eyes opened wide, her face contorting into a grimace.
“What is this…a form of torture?” she queried.
The experiment continued, and she began to have a seizure right there in the chair. I snapped into action, coming to her aid but in that moment where I touched her, I looked deep into her eyes and saw sheer terror. She screamed, causing the other technicians to come running.
She changed my life, because she lost hers. I don’t know why she died, but the seizure overwhelmed her and we failed to resuscitate her.
I felt disgusted with myself for weeks. I’d never caused anyone’s death, and it affected me deeply, particularly due to that fleeting emotional connection. From that point onwards, I realised I’d spent the past decade of my life on some sort of fairground ride. Maybe I even jumped aboard the carriage before I met Max. At the start of the ride, I knew it would be exhilarating, possibly even frightening at times. Committing myself to the ride, I closed my eyes then screamed my heart out as I surrendered control to the twists and turns, the climbs and dips. At no point did I consider getting off, or it ever ending. But then, as the carriage drew into the terminus, I wondered what the hell happened and what I’d become.
In this light bulb moment, I became aware my ethics were not my own anymore. Had I passed through a dark era in my life, where I became so entrenched in Max’s circle and research that I began to lose myself? Had living things become commodities in my quest for breaking boundaries? Was I so in love with investigation that I could switch off my conscience? The military applications of my research began to haunt me, and I realised how I’d digressed from my original, philosophical objectives.
Spiritual cravings began to take root and throughout these last weeks, I began to feel like I’d never get to investigate life’s mysteries. However, Max sprang the unexpected on me one day in late 1959. We’d taken our horses out in the woods near the coach house.
“I have another project for you,” he announced. “I’ve noticed your enthusiasm has dwindled and your peers are experienced enough to complete the study. Life must progress, so that we can change and grow, therefore, I’d like you to work at a sister facility called The Institute. It’s in London but quite accessible. You’ll like this one, more up your street. You’re going to study some people with extraordinary talents.”
Whether I liked it or not, Max was about to turn my reality upside down again.
3
Key to the Door
Saturday 19th November 1988
The smell of roast chicken filled the kitchen, enhanced by the additional aroma of thyme. Ava glanced over at the array of vegetables sitting obediently in their serving dishes, plus the array of condiments awaiting attention. Everything was behaving itself.
With the radio blasting ‘Sweet Child O’ Mine’ by Guns ‘N’ Roses, she performed a little secret dance while her guests chatted at the table in the next room. She even slipped in a quick mime of the chorus, using a kitchen implement as a mock microphone, but the timer pinged and interrupted.
Ava grabbed the oven gloves and reached down to take the chicken out. As she grasped the roasting tray, a surreal sight greeted her eyes. Wrapped around the succulent chicken, she saw two entwined snakes, writhing and poking their tongues out. Ava suppressed a shriek and dropped the tray on the floor.
God damn these hallucinations!
They were beginning to affect her everyday life now, and caught her at the most inopportune moments…like cooking for her entire family for her 21st birthday meal.
One of her flatmates, Emma, poked her head around the door.
“Everything okay?”
They both looked at the roasting tray on the floor, and figured everything wasn’t actually under control. Emma’s hand shot to her mouth, and Ava rescued it before it looked even sorrier than it already did. Thankfully, the chicken hadn’t launched itself onto the tiles, and no one else witnessed the culinary travesty.
“You’re the only person I know who cooks for everyone on her birthday,” Emma commented, assisting Ava in transferring the platters to the dining table, which was already laden with cutlery.
The whole family sat around the table, almost arm to arm with the tight squeeze. Ava and Emma set the chicken onto a plate while her father, David Kavanagh, offered to carve. He possessed a natural air of authority, interlaced with good humour and a warm smile, so he joked about his army days as he sliced the chicken.
Everyone began to help themselves to vegetables. Ava’s flame haired sister, Ginny, slapped the wrist of her husband as he reached over her, and he shot her an irritated glance. In her early thirties, she appeared quite athletic, as if she threw javelins for a living or rode horses, a modern Boudicca to her Roman looking partner. They seemed to have a relationship similar to the Iceni and Romans too, but curtailed their altercations for Ava’s benefit.
“That’s a beautiful scarf you’re wearing, Ava,” her mother commented. “It looks really vintage.”
Caroline Kavanagh’s eyes fixated on the red silk scarf around Ava’s neck, which she’d tied loosely.
“I found it recently,” she explained.
She gave Ava a broad smile, exemplifying her once carefree and hedonistic nature, as if she’d been a flower power queen in the sixties.
As they tucked into their meal, her father poured the wine and everyone raised their glasses.
“Happy birthday!”
She tried to shrug it off with modesty, but appreciated their toast. However, her gaze drifted over to the two empty chairs.
“Well, almost the whole family is here,” she said.
After a short while, Ginny decided to make polite conversation with Ava as the men discussed cars and technology.
“So, is there a special man in your life?”
Ava wanted to grit her teeth, as her oldest sister always became obsessed with other people’s relationships. Instead, she forced a polite reply. “No. I split with Michael a few months ago.” The regrets were difficult to hide though, and her voice faltered a little.
“Sorry to hear that, you were such a promising couple,” she consoled.
“No harm in leading a single life,” her other flatmate, Jason, interjected.
“I thought you two were going to leave for the States after you’ve finished your degree. This is so…abrupt.”
Ava wished the floor would swallow her up as Ginny continued.
“Honestly, men are terrible for cold feet. They never have the courage-.”
Caroline shot Ginny a warning look and she tried to appear nonchalant about being scolded by her mother’s icy stare. Their older brother, Robert, came to the rescue, a mild mannered and dark haired technician in the army who displayed more refined social skills than their big sister.
“When you’ve finished your degree in genetics, what do you intend to do next?”
“Look for a job!” Ava laughed. “But first, I’ve to focus on the last year of study, a dissertation won’t write itself.”
“What’s your dissertation about?”
“Telomeres and their role in the aging process. I think they have a big future.”
“Telomeres?” he queried.
“The bits on the ends of chromosomes,” she answered, realising it hadn’t enlightened him any more.
He nodded appreciatively, accepting that he hadn’t a clue what she was talking about.
Ava’s ears tuned into the discussion between her father and her oldest brother, Jack. He exemplified the classic eighties yuppie, complete with a Filofax, mobile phone as heavy as a house brick, and a monotonous repertoire of conversation topics and jokes about his high-flying lifestyle. Good looking, he fancied himself as a playboy, but unfortunately his obnoxious demeanour acted as a turn off. He
showed everyone his pride and joy, complete with chunky antenna, and elaborated on the merits of being able to call someone while walking down the street.
“Of course,” Jack stated, “not everyone will have one in the future, nice to be part of an elite. I mean, why would anyone want to call someone while on the move, unless you were a businessman?”
Ava switched off while Jack began to boast eloquently of his last financial conquest.
Fortunately, if you looked at it that way, the door bell rang and Ava saw this as an opportunity to escape the inane onslaught of finance. However, Robert stood up to answer it, indicating she had every right to sit and enjoy her meal.
As he left the room, she wondered who rang the doorbell. Two people absent…one or both would exceed her expectations.
Robert led a young man into the room. Ava smiled affectionately and he returned the gaze, which he held for longer than would be customary. Most of the room’s occupants recognised him and were pleased to see him. This insanely beautiful youth had quite an androgynous look, with intense brown eyes, ebony hair in a contemporary style, an aquiline nose, and slim build. He wore a black shirt, and jeans with a deliberate frayed tear at the knee plus a studded bracelet typical of the eighties, so he looked vaguely like a rock god in formation. Emma’s eyes lit up, which caused Ava to smile, if only she knew he’d only just turned sixteen. However, he didn’t notice Emma. Instead, he appeared to be fixated on Ava, which didn’t go unnoticed by Caroline, her mother.
“This is Sam, he’s my cousin,” she informed her flatmates, Emma and Jason, who acknowledged him.
Caroline looked concerned. “Is your father not here?”
