by Marie Harbon
Builders began the conversion of the barn on the 28th of October 1965, ten days before my twenty-first birthday. Due to the pressures of the conversion, Paul and I dined at a restaurant, which didn’t require him to take time off. I understood the importance of the project, and his companionship meant more than a romantic break.
Sometimes, I relaxed in front of the TV while he worked late into the night. Pursuing his dream tired him, but it gave him the purpose he so desperately sought and to extract him from the passion that consumed him seemed wrong.
One night, I watched a documentary about protests. The programme began with the ‘ban the bomb’ demonstration of 1958 in Trafalgar Square, where around sixty to a hundred thousand protesters brought counterculture to the world’s attention. It gave an overview of the principles underlying the movement: a love of nature, independence and distrust of governments, and their instruments of order such as the police. It discussed the baby boomer era, driven by young, affluent and disillusioned people, their use of psychedelic drugs, the creation of the contraceptive pill which heralded a new freedom and sexual revolution for women, and the breaking away from the constraints of the fifties. The programme concluded with Bob Dylan singing ‘The Times They Are a Changin’.
I think some of the principles raised struck a chord with me, in particular feminism, and I realised that I agreed with the growing school of independent thought in women. I had no intentions of having my life dictated by a man, and abhorred the idea of domestic slavery. I was living the life I’d always secretly wanted, one of freedom and self expression, and this project cemented that ambition.
The documentary exemplified the decade and culture in which I became an adult, and in many ways, this era perhaps shaped my personality, emphasising the more rebellious, free spirited, and spiritual aspects of my nature that would probably have been more dormant if I’d remained in the Middle East, or lived in the fifties. I felt vindicated, not the odd one out anymore.
The next day, I returned The Institute, while Paul acted as project manager and six weeks later, the barn had water and an electric supply, plus the basic structure of the machine took form. He worked with a technician for the next six weeks to create the machine itself and set up the control booth, the technical equipment and the ‘pyramid’, an enclosure in which I’d be exposed to the resonance and electromagnetic field. Paul explained the dampeners installed around the exterior to contain ‘the field’, and how I’d be monitored throughout the experiments. It gave him great pleasure to see his vision come alive, and I felt proud to be a part of something so ground breaking.
While the building work progressed, I divided my time between university, the farmhouse and The Institute, quite a juggling feat. At the time, I strived to keep everyone happy: Paul, Max, the university, and myself. Staying at The Institute made it easier to focus on the essays and exams, but I missed Paul. I used the local phone box at first to stay in touch with him and hear the latest on the building work, but after a while, Max let me use the office telephone and respected me enough not to listen in on the conversations. Afterwards, he enquired about the progress, and sometimes glanced at me with a sad look in his eyes. I longed to see Paul to take my mind off these uncomfortable situations.
Eventually, Paul had some good news to announce. I arrived at the farmhouse one day in February 1966, and he unveiled his pride and joy. I felt as ecstatic as he did. The time had arrived to run the machine without a participant.
Project OOBE was green to go. One day, in the not too distant future, I’d step into that machine and reach for the stars.
***
Paul decided to conduct the first test of his machine on his birthday, as it detracted from the fact the years marched on. Standing in the mirror, he turned his head from side to side, raised his eyebrows up and down, and repeatedly smiled at his reflection.
“Am I getting old?” he asked Tahra, as she watched with some amusement.
“No, of course not. You’re dignified and noble,” she replied, kissing him sweetly. “Happy birthday.”
She reached under the bed and pulled out a gift in wrapping paper, handing it to him. Delighted with the surprise, he tore off the paper and discovered a striped shirt inside, which was made of silk. Holding it against him while looking in the mirror, he let loose a satisfied smile.
“Thanks,” he said, immediately removing the shirt he’d already put on and exchanging it for the one Tahra had bought him. “I’m glad you didn’t choose anything my father would wear.”
“You’re not old!” I like the wisdom of an older man, it makes me feel secure. A few grey hairs and crow’s feet goes with the territory.”
“Well, you make me feel young inside, that’s what counts, and I love you for it.”
After breakfast, comprising tea and a rack of toast, Paul unveiled the machine barn with an impersonation of a trumpet fanfare. Almost squealing with excitement, Tahra wandered around inside, finding it difficult to see anything in the darkness. With trepidation, he switched on the lights and they flickered into life, revealing the machine and the control booth, which sat behind a screen of reinforced glass.
An object of metallic beauty stood before them, a majestic pyramid finished in polished silvery shielding designed to contain the field. It possessed no windows, but had interior lighting, cameras, and apparatus to monitor heart rate and brain waves. Inside, Tahra found it surprisingly spacious and she saw thirteen reclining seats fixed in a circle. This morning, he’d placed some sensing equipment in the middle, set up to measure the field.
They sat in the control booth, full of rows of lights, buttons, and dials. Machines linked up with the heart and brain wave monitors inside the pyramid, plus screens which relayed information from the cameras, providing Paul with feedback on his participants.
Once he’d closed the hatch on his machine, he took a deep breath and powered it up. He activated the oscillators, although it took a few minutes for them to come online and reach the correct intensity. The frequencies fired up in a certain sequence, beginning with the highest and finishing with the final and lowest, yet the most important – 7.8. Each frequency had a slider control and bank of lights. When he felt satisfied with their performance, he activated the pulsed magnetic field but sustained it at thirty percent.
At this point, Tahra edged closer to him and squeezed his hand. Glancing away from the bank of controls, he looked over at her, and realised how nervous she appeared. He appreciated her concern, and diverted his attention to the operation of the machine again.
The bank of controls gave him feedback about the field within the machine, and the cine cameras allowed him to look inside. He observed a slight vibration of the machine’s shell, and nodded in appreciation.
“I’ve gotta say,” he said, “the weather looks good in there.”
Tahra nodded in agreement, as it did indeed.
***
The first operation of the machine progressed smoothly, with no electrical problems, no hassles, and no glitches. The conditions inside appeared to be conducive to Paul’s expectations. He tested the machine with no participants for ten days, progressively making the field stronger until by day ten, it ran at sixty-five percent. The vibration of the machine’s shell surprised him, but it presented no problem, it was simply a side effect.
After running it empty, he needed to begin testing the safety of the field on living organisms. Paul had a fair stock of laboratory animals and began with a plastic tank of mice. If Tahra had been there, she would have been horrified. With the mice inside, he ran the field at thirty percent and observed the mice closely, then, finding no obvious deleterious effects, he increased the field to fifty percent. They were exposed for five minutes, during which they ceased running around until Paul powered down the machine. Checking them, he discovered they were alive and apparently healthy.
For a week afterwards, he monitored the health of the mice and found no ill effects from exposure to the field. Two further batches of mice
were tested at field strengths of sixty and sixty-five, an intensity which caused them to stand still but yet, they appeared healthy. In fact, the subsequent batches seemed to be a little smarter, more acute. However, he brushed that aside.
At the end of March 1966, Max arrived to oversee one of the test runs. To compound matters, Tahra was present although Max had phoned ahead, so they were aware of his visit and maintained a professional relationship to keep the peace. Paul noted how awkward Max seemed around Tahra, and how Tahra kept her distance. He couldn’t put his finger on the atmosphere this created and it did raise his suspicions briefly, however, the project took precedent.
Paul intended Project OOBE to step up a gear, so he’d planned an important test to impress Max, who in turn would sing the praises of the machine to the committee. As Max stepped into the machine barn, and Tahra followed him, he decided to introduce his test subject. Paul moved over to a covered cage in the corner of the barn and pulled back the green canvas.
“I’d like to introduce my intrepid explorer, Adam.”
Opening the cage, he allowed a chimpanzee to jump out and took him by the hand. As the first sentient mammal in the machine, no offence to the mice, Paul reached into his pocket and gave him a banana. Adam took it with nonchalance, and allowed Paul to guide him to the pyramidal machine, where he got hooked up to the ECG and EEG.
Once Adam sat on one of the reclining chairs in the machine, Paul closed the hatch and left him to the banana, and the silence. Joining Max and Tahra in the control booth, he activated the frequencies and the pulsed electromagnetic field, which rotated around the circle of seats.
Tahra appeared to be on tenterhooks and Max stood, finger on chin, in his usual reflective pose. Had he seen anything like this before? Paul could only guess what his other projects entailed.
He initialised the field at thirty percent, bringing each of the harmonic frequencies online one at a time, beginning with the highest and culminating with 7.8. All the time he watched Adam, who responded well so far to exposure. The weather looked fine in there and once he felt satisfied Adam experienced no distress, he increased the field intensity to fifty percent.
Max moved closer to the bank of controls, wishing to observe the feedback on the screens. Tahra followed. Adam appeared to be alert and healthy, so Paul increased field intensity to sixty-five, adequate for the time being. He constantly checked Adam’s status, noting his ECG was acceptable. An increase in heart rate didn’t astonish him, but Adam’s EEG proved fascinating. His brain waves had synchronised with the resonance of 7.8 hertz.
What was he experiencing?
Did he have a primate consciousness that separated from his body in the same way that Tahra’s did?
What could he see?
Where did he go?
Max appeared to be satisfied with the early test runs and Tahra seemed transfixed, not surprising as these tests took her closer to her own upcoming journeys.
After powering down, Paul cut the field completely and opened the hatch, releasing Adam. They all walked over to the entrance of the machine, awaiting a response. A long pause ensued, creating worry for all involved. Had Adam recovered from his experience in altered states of consciousness? They held their breath, wishing for a positive conclusion.
Adam ran out, heading straight for Tahra, for some reason. Max flinched as the chimpanzee jumped up to her, but she caught hold of him and let him put his arms around her. From that point on, Adam became very attached to Tahra.
Before he departed, Max gave everything the seal of approval. He and Paul chatted in the farmhouse, discussing how extraordinary the whole thing was: the technical genius of the machine, the professional set up, and so on. Paul noticed him looking around the main living area of the farmhouse, as if seeking evidence of Tahra being more than professionally involved. However, they’d carefully removed any intimate possessions of hers from the main house, and placed them in one of the bedroom conversions in the guest barn. It was best no one at The Institute knew, most of all Max.
Adam and his sister, Eve, were subjected to further testing for the next two weeks, as Paul wanted to be certain there were no ill effects. They were both closely monitored, and all their medicals checked out. If anything, they performed more efficiently in cognitive tests.
More importantly, the status of Adam and Eve meant one thing.
After finishing the final sentence in his report, Paul turned to Tahra.
“You know something?” he asked her.
“What? I’m wonderful?” she joked.
“Well, you are truly wonderful, but I have some news for you. It’s your turn to step into the machine.”
On hearing this announcement, Tahra’s eyes opened wide. Now she had to follow in Adam and Eve’s footsteps. What would she see, and where would she go?
***
Paul sat in the kitchen of their new farmhouse on the morning of her first journey in the machine, reading the newspaper. A pot of tea, along with several slices of toast and jam sat on the table, awaiting Tahra, who showered upstairs. Not long after he finished his breakfast, she joined him at the table, trying to glance at the front page of his paper.
“What’s the story?” she enquired.
“The Moors Murders…Ian Brady and Myra Hindley got life in prison for the horrific killings of Edward Evans, Lesley Ann Downey, and John Kilbride. I can’t understand how people can be so sadistic, torturing and killing kids.”
“I can’t imagine murdering anyone,” Tahra commented, feeling genuine sadness for their demise. “I don’t think I could do it.”
Folding up the paper and putting the world’s misery aside, he leaned over and gave her a morning kiss.
“Help yourself to breakfast, you’ll need the energy today.”
She seemed to have the jitters, which Paul considered entirely normal, as no human had used the machine yet.
“Don’t worry,” he reassured her. “I’m only running the field at thirty percent.”
Tahra sighed, like a child who realised she wasn’t going to get everything she wanted for Christmas.
“Only thirty percent? Why? We know Adam and Eve are perfectly fine. I’m nervous for no good reason now.”
“Impatience is my vice,” Paul replied, “not yours. You must respect my decision.”
She relented and didn’t press further. No point in arguing with the project manager.
The hatch awaited her and she stepped inside, taking a seat and feeling a sense of awe at the journey she’d make. Paul hooked her up to the ECG and EEG, and gave her a kiss for luck. After the hatch had closed, she heard Paul’s voice over the intercom, confirming he could see and hear her. Inside the machine, it fell silent, eerily so.
What had she let herself in for?
“Okay, Tahra,” Paul began, “I’m going to bring everything online, one frequency at a time and the field will run at thirty percent.”
She nodded to indicate she understood. After a few moments, she heard a hum emanating from the machine, then heard the harmonics come on line one at a time. The overall frequency became lower and lower, until it became inaudible. She became aware of the reverberation of the shell of the machine, although it didn’t intimidate her.
A peculiar vibration began to creep through her body, something she’d never experienced before during any of the remote viewing sessions, however, she didn’t resist. The vibration pulsed through her body and she felt a sense of paralysis, which alarmed her, but she reminded herself it would only last five minutes, so no need to panic. She wanted this more than anything.
In the control booth, Paul watched her intently. While she didn’t appear to be totally relaxed, she didn’t look distressed. Her heart rate was elevated but nowhere near maximal. Her brain waves synchronised with the resonance, operating smoothly at 7.8.
Once again, the weather looked good in there.
Meanwhile, inside the machine, Tahra willed her consciousness to move and she felt an immense surge. The visuals were d
ifferent to anything she’d previously experienced, and she didn’t find herself in Earth orbit or anywhere in the solar system…this was something else.
She saw a net in her field of vision, composed of shimmering hexagons, hundreds of them which were orange in colour. They appeared to hum, or was it just the machine? Before she could progress any further, they faded and she became aware of her body once more. The paralysis and vibration released her and dissolved, making the experience hardly mind-blowing. Paul had powered down the machine.
“Please confirm you’re all right,” he said, over the intercom.
Tahra gave him the thumbs up. He popped the hatch and met her at the opening, finding her somewhat disappointed though.
“That was the shortest trip ever,” she complained.
Paul lifted her chin and gave her a smile, which encouraged her to return one of her own.
“You know we’re dealing with something completely different here,” he explained. “I need to ensure your safety.”
She nodded. “I know, I can’t help but want more, we’ve come so far already.”
“Soon…soon enough.”
“Now I need to know what the grid is,” she informed him.
“The grid?”
She described the grid to him but could offer no opinion on what it was, Paul had no idea either. He found it intriguing, and neither Oscar nor George had ever mentioned one. It would wait until another time. A medical followed the experiment, in which everything checked out so he saw no reason to prevent further exposure in the machine. Forty eight hours elapsed before the next trip and during that time period, Paul made her stay over so he could observe her closely. She took advantage of this opportunity to share his bed, and Paul discovered that in no way did exposure to the machine dull the sex drive.
The duration of the next trip lasted ten minutes, with a field intensity of forty percent, to give her a better chance of exploration. Identical to the first trip, the machine reverberated, and she felt the same tingling vibration, lost awareness of her body, and the grid appeared in her vision again. The hexagons shimmered and almost burnt an impression into her consciousness.
