by Rob Mclean
“Not that I know of. I think they were just random people who were good at meditating. The theory was that they could maintain their concentration for longer, in a more ‘pure’ state and there were more of them.”
“Sounds logical,” John said, surprising himself that he was keeping up with it all so far.
“The next step was to take a planned event; one that a lot of people knew was coming and would take an interest in. It was suggested by Dr Dean Radin, back in 1995, that the trial of O.J. Simpson would be something being watched by over a hundred million people. They set up five RNGs, one in Amsterdam and four in the States, and let them run.
Afterwards when the results were analysed, they showed two spikes in the data. One when the cameras went from outside the courthouse to inside and another when the actual verdict was being read.”
“But some would be hoping he was innocent and others would be hoping he’d be locked up. Wouldn’t that sort of cancel each other out?” asked John.
“It seemed not. It was the focusing of all those minds on the same event, the uniformity of people’s attention, the coherence of their minds that we think was the reason that the RNGs became non-random.” Jarred could see the doubts written on John’s face.
“Couldn’t it just have been that more people wanted him to be acquitted than those who wanted him jailed?”
“Maybe… After you subtracted the guilties from the innocents, they might have been the only ones that caused the effect. Quite possibly.”
However, a few years later in 1997, Princess Diana of England died in a car crash in Paris. For the day of her funeral, they had twelve RNGs set up around the world. Over a billion people watched or listened to that event. All the RNGs showed a change in shift in their randomness, and I‘m pretty sure everyone watching that would have been feeling the same emotions.”
John nodded. He could remember watching it on television and feeling sad, although he wouldn’t have been ten years old then. Jarred continued with his explanation, oblivious to John’s recollections.
“Anyway, after that they decided to keep a network of RNGs running continuously so they could capture both planned events and spontaneous events.”
“Like the arrival of an alien spaceship?”
“That too, but before that, the twin towers of 9/11 was phenomenal.”
“Yeah, that would have been watched by just about everyone on the planet,” John said.
“We had thirty-seven RNGs set up and running that day. The mental coherence that day caused the biggest spike in non-randomness ever.”
“Wow,” John said. He crushed his beer can the conventional way and grabbed another.
“When all the data was analysed, the amazing thing we found was that the deviations from randomness started to happen an hour more before the actual events.”
“Like yesterday afternoon when you rang me,” John said. “But how does that work? How can you know something before it happens?”
“That’s the bit I can’t quite get either,” Jarred said. “It’s called ‘entanglement,’ and it’s a property of quantum mechanics. Einstein called it ‘spooky action at a distance,’ and it’s one of the reasons he didn’t like quantum theory. Basically it says that everything is connected. That and the theory that time isn’t always linear down at the quantum level means that the effects of consciousness can be detected by the RNGs beforehand.”
“But that is pretty amazing,” John said. “I mean, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, but you have to keep it in perspective,” Jarred opened his beer. “We’re talking about changing the random numbers generated by a bunch of computers. It’s not bending spoons or levitating tables, you know. It’s such a small force that it takes about eight billion people to make it happen.”
“But you’re saying that the mind can alter virtual information, even though it needs lots of people to do it? Maybe you could get your team to alter my bank account,” he grinned. “Just one more zero at the right spot would be good. I mean, digital information is all just ones and zeros too, like your RNGs, right?”
“I’ll suggest it at the next funding meeting,” Jarred sipped his beer and leaned back in the lounge. “Besides, if there was anything of any value in this research, we would have been commercialized or militarized by now and I’d have the extra zero or two at the end of my pay packet.”
Jarred sat back and turned the television up. The cheerleaders had left the field, and the teams had come on. The commentators were going through the match ups and game plans.
John thought his brother seemed annoyed with the aliens for arriving. Most people were scared and frightened. Either that or they were fatalistically indifferent. Not Jarred. But then, he wasn’t like most people. John knew that he loved being an intellectual. He took the term ‘geek’ to be a compliment. It wasn’t like him to downplay his studies, even if it was only a research project he was doing to help out in his spare time. John reached over and turned the television down.
“So how’s the study going?” John asked. “Are you winning?”
“Oh yeah, sort of. Um, I mean it’s all so complicated…” Jarred stared, then saw the look of concern on John’s face. “You know, it’s quantum physics, man. No one really gets their heads totally around it.”
“Yeah, well, it beats me where you get your brains from. Sure couldn’t be from our mother,” John joked.
No one but their mother knew who Jarred’s real father was. She had always said that they had the same father, but since John had dark straight hair and dark blue eyes and Jarred was a frizzy ginger kid with sky blue eyes, her story was not widely believed. However it wasn’t openly questioned either.
“She’s not dumb,” said Jarred defensively.
“But she didn’t go to college either,” countered John offering a beer.
“She’s smart enough.”
“Animal cunning doesn’t count.”
“People smart is what she is,” Jarred said. “Hey, you know about dinner Sunday night?”
“No, that’s tomorrow night?”
“Yeah, it’s their anniversary or something.”
“But they’re not married,” John stated. “Unless they snuck off to Vegas.”
“Yeah, thank God for that.” said Jarred as they clanged their beers together in a toast.
They sat and watched the game in silence until the first touchdown. They groaned in unison as the Cleveland Browns scored against their 49ers. After the numerous replays from dozens of angles in slo-mo came the ads.
“You working again tonight?” Jarred asked.
“Yeah, the company is looking into nightclub security and we’re the guinea pigs.”
“So you don’t get home ‘til when?”
“Oh, about four or five.”
“Man, that sucks,” said Jarred with empathy.
“Yeah, but better than armoured cars. Don’t worry. I won’t wake you up again.”
“Not going to pick up another randomly drugged girl then?” he teased.
“Not if I can help it.”
The ads finished and they went back to the game. The footer at the bottom of the screen reminded them that although nothing had changed as far as the alien signal was concerned, and that it was still coming from above the orbit of Mars. It also told them that there was a ‘temporary’ martial law imposed in downtown Los Angeles following the riots of last night. They had been down to several shops and fought the crowds for the few remaining items left on the shelves under the watchful eyes of the National Guard.
John felt that the alien problem would all blow over eventually. So drinking the few remaining beers, while watching the game was his way of reaffirming this belief as well as finding comfort in the mundane and routine. Besides, he felt that he should put on a brave face for his little brother, but it wasn’t entirely working.
“So how about that girl this morning?” Jarred ventured.
“Yeah? What about her?” John said brusquely, his eyes not leav
ing the screen.
“Pretty gorgeous, didn‘t you think?”
“You need to get out more.”
“You didn’t like her then?” Jarred persisted, sneaking a sideways peek at his brother, who continued to watch the game stony faced.
“What’s to like?” John shrugged. “As you said, she’s got the temper of a wildcat, probably ‘cause she’s on all sorts of drugs, no doubt.” He took a long swill of beer, by way of ending the conversation.
“Couldn’t help but noticing she had a mighty fine figure,” said Jarred airily to no one in particular, “and not too hard on the eyes either.”
“Yeah, okay,” John snapped. “She could be real good looking if she wasn’t so tarted up. But if that’s how she dresses, you can bet she’s full of nasty diseases.”
“Sounds to me like you’ve put a lot of thought into it,” said Jarred with a sly grin. “You must have really thought about the possibilities with her.”
“What are you trying to say?” John glared at his brother.
“You must like her.” Jarred grinned.
John stood up abruptly, and Jarred backed up, sliding across the lounge to get away. “Hey man, chill out. I was just pushing your buttons.” They had often wrestled as kids until John had gotten far too strong. Although Jarred knew that his brother would never intentionally hurt him, it was always a challenge to see how far he could taunt him before he reacted.
“Yeah, she’s totally awesome, but she seemed a bit weird, and besides, I don’t have her number.”
“Too bad, man.”
“Anyway, I’m going have a shower before going to work,” announced John and strode away to the bathroom.
Jarred waited until the bathroom door was almost closed before calling out, “Better make it a cold one!”
Chapter 11
That evening John surveyed the Saturday night crowds lining up outside from the front door. On the horizon, dark clouds were gathering. A summer storm had been predicted, and it looked as though the weather forecasters might have gotten it right this time.
The company had installed a metal detector for the patrons to pass through on their way in as part of their security contract long ago. In addition the two doormen, Marcus and Akeem had hand-held metal detectors, along with their batons, cable ties, tazers and pepper spray.
Marcus asked, “Is there a curfew tonight, boss?” as he ran his metal detector over the curves of a young lady. Not that she had anywhere to conceal a weapon, but you had to at least make an effort to look like you weren’t singling out certain ‘types,’ and Marcus didn’t seem to mind his job at that moment.
John raised an eyebrow at Marcus’s diligence. “I checked with head office, and they think not- at least not in this part of town.”
“I didn’t read anything in the newspapers,” Akeem, the other similarly large doorman, added as he waved his scanner over a less shapely patron.
“Didn’t know you could read.” Marcus laughed at his own joke. John just smiled. Best not to take sides, he thought.
“You know, you are a very funny man… for a moron.”
“Yeah, well, I hope they don’t announce one during the night, ‘cause if this lot get out of here in the early hours, they won’t like being arrested.”
“I think the martial law is just for the downtown area where the rioting was last night,” Akeem said.
“Did you read that too?” Marcus chuckled to himself again.
“As a matter of fact, I did. Maybe you should learn to read sometime.”
John wondered if the banter between the two doormen was covering for their own nervousness. Certainly the crowd tonight appeared quiet and well behaved so far, perhaps more like in shock. They had meekly accepted the metal detector at the entrance along with having to remove all metal objects. He guessed that the presence of Abraham tanks on the city streets along with soldiers totting M16s patrolling on foot usually had that effect, even though it was miles away downtown.
“Leave you to it boys.” John turned and went inside.
John roamed the club, glad to see that Kent, a lean, tattooed angry kid, recruited from a local gang, had decided to show up for work tonight.
He apologized, and started to give John a long story about how his girlfriend had insisted on leaving town last night, on account of the spaceship, but John cut him off with a short, “Forget it,” before settling in with a coffee in the control room.
The whole evening had run smoothly and John was just about to review the security footage of last night. He was hoping to see if he could follow Angela’s movements up to the time she was drugged. He was methodically starting with the front door camera to find out when she had arrived when he got a call from Grace.
“Johnny, I’ve got your ‘girlfriend’ here. She says she wants to see the man who took her home last night.”
“Sure didn‘t expect to ever see her again,” he said, then remembered her phone. He saw it in front of the rows of monitors. “Could you come up with her, Grace?”
He hung up and went back to last night’s footage. He was surprised to find his hands were a little shaky as he fiddled with the controls. ‘I wonder if it’s just the phone she wants?’
It wasn’t long before the two women arrived at the control room. Angela, in complete contrast to last night, was very well covered up with a short, white cotton dress with purple tights underneath. Her light, curly hair fell to her shoulders and was covered with a small scarf. She was wearing a minimal amount of make-up, which let her natural beauty show.
“I filled her in on what happened here last night, Johnny.”
“Thanks, Grace.” Then turning to Angela, “Well, we’re all busy people. What is it you wanted to see me for?”
He saw her smile slightly in reply, but her eyes were on her foot as she swung it in a little circle in front of her.
“I came to say sorry for this morning.” She kept her eyes down as she spoke softly, “’twas badly done on my behalf.”
Grace raised her eyebrow.
“Really?” John asked. “How’s that?”
“For a start I charged the cab back to your address…” Angela said with a quick sideways grin to Grace, who snickered.
“What!? The cabbie did that for you?”
“Well, after I told him how I was drugged and all…” she smiled mischievously. “He said he was going to call the cops, but I told him I was okay.”
“How much will this cost me? Where do you live? Oxnard, I bet.”
Both Grace and Angela laughed at his distressed expression. He then saw that he had been teased.
“But seriously, I did want to say thank you for looking out for me.” Angela then flung herself at him and wrapped her arm around him. She hugged him tightly. John held his arms out to the sides, initially resisting the hug, before cautiously patting her gingerly on the back. He remembered the reaction last time he touched her, but this time she squeezed him harder, so he returned the hug, always mindful of Grace watching. He had almost forgotten how good it felt to hold a woman tight. Eventually though, she let him go.
“Thank you,” she said again. This time almost a whisper.
“No problem.” John found his heart was beating fast. He knew then that he definitely had feelings for this girl. He yearned to hold her again and smell her close to him, but he knew he was on duty. With Grace watching him closely, he had to keep it professional.
Taking a deep breath and regaining focus, he asked, “Can you tell me when you got here last night? I want to see what happened to you on the security footage.”
They found the images of Angela in line out the front. They followed her as she paid her cover-charge while the group of girls before her sweet-talked and flirted her way past Akeem without paying admission. John said nothing but changed views to track her as she met up with Zeke and Blake. They watched as she yelled at Zeke and how he gave her the drink. Minutes later they were supporting her as she was walked towards the door before being interc
epted by John.
“You know, my pastor says that God sent you to help me.”
“Really?”
“Yes, God works like that sometimes.”
John smirked. “Funny, but that would put us both in the same boat then,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
“There you were, drugged and with no free will.”
“Yeah and?”
“Well, I didn’t feel like God’s glove puppet, but there I was, without a will of my own, doing just what God wanted.”
Angela’s cheeks reddened, but John ignored it and just smiled to himself while he reversed the images to track Zeke back to his meeting with Blake at Josie’s bar. The resolution wasn’t good enough to see what was passed between them, but it was obvious that a transaction had taken place.
“Unfortunately not enough to get a conviction,” Grace said.
“But thank you anyway.” Angela put her hand out to John for a formal handshake.
“Going so soon?” Grace asked.
John couldn’t help to let the shock of disappointment flash across his face.
Angela smiled briefly at his discomfort. “Yes, I had a late night last night.”
“Let me call you a cab,” John offered, “again.”
Suddenly Grace gasped. They turned to see her pointing and staring at the television screen. “Oh my God,” was all she could say.
The screen showed an image of the spaceship parked midair above the Pyramids of Giza, with the words ‘Live from Cairo, Egypt’ emblazoned across the bottom.
“Far out!” John exclaimed.
He called the dance master. John told him to stop the music and put the image of the massive vessel onto the dance floor screen for everyone to see. Something this momentous had to be shown at once.
The patrons stood in muted awe as they watched the stationary discoid spaceship floating above the ancient Pyramids.
“Put the music back on,” someone eventually yelled from the floor.
“Yeah, I’m sick of this alien shit,” yelled another. But their voices were countered by others wanting to watch.
