The night of August 15th, 1909 was the night of the infamous fire of St. Joseph’s Church. “Fire” was just one way of describing the event, for witnesses claimed they had seen no flame, at least not in the usual sense of the word. The church appeared to be wrapped in what witnesses describe as a multicolored flare impossible to face directly, producing temporary blindness, similar to that generated when we try to see the sun with the naked eye. The first time I saw anything related to this event was via documentaries on cable TV. The St. Joseph’s Church fire is a popular topic on television paranormal investigation programs and internet forums. Mystics claim that the multicolored flare was the appearance of an angel. Skeptics, however, claim that the blaze that covered the church was produced by subterranean gases that had escaped to the surface. But what both skeptics and mystics were unable to explain was the state of the church’s debris. The experts agreed that a common fire, no matter how high the temperature, would never produce enough heat to turn the bricks of the church wall into the amorphous mass it had been reduced to.
Testimony from eyewitnesses raised even more questions. Although the words and terms employed varied, the essence of the description remained the same. I found on the internet the testimony of a long-deceased man who witnessed the event. He describes how the multicolored flames melted the church walls like a flame melting the wax of a candle. Witnesses also found the event strange because of its absolute silence. There was no sound at all. On the contrary, instead of the burning wood crackling and walls collapsing, the flame that surrounded the church consumed everything in silence. There is also the question of the divergence of the testimony regarding the colors of the flames. Apparently it produced colors unknown to human experience. This conclusion is supported by the confused testimony and the witnesses’ lack of vocabulary to describe what they saw. It is almost as if new words had to be invented to describe those anomalous colors.
From the back door of the church leading to the basement, my great-grandfather heard what he describes as “the most distressing cry a person could ever give.” Trying to open the trapdoor, whose staircase led to the basement, my great-grandfather claims that his body went through the door as if it were “made of air.” The bright, strong colors covered the walls and made his vision difficult, forcing him to cover his eyes so as not to go blind, just as someone would cover his nose so he would not suffocate in the midst of smoke. All he could see was an huge bluish blur in front of him, surrounded by indefinite shapes. In the middle of that scene he could not find words to describe, merely saying that it was like being plunged into a nightmare, he recognized the oval machine. What differentiated the machine from the other occasions in which he had glanced it was that the transparent cylinder at the top showed a tiny crack. The origin of the inferno of colors seemed to come from that particular point.
There was a man lying on the floor. The right side of his body was deformed. Looking at the squirming walls, giving rise to bizarre forms, my great-grandfather noticed a strange resemblance between the appearance of the walls and the deformation of the man in front of him. The man was James Paulsen.
Paulsen’s lips twitched in pain, making no sound. He tried to speak, but no sound emerged from his mouth. Some sort of phenomenon seemed to have suppressed all the sound in that place. In his confused, shaky, and chaotic writing, my great-grandfather confessed that his first impulse, when confronted with the body of Paulsen devastated in that hideous and incomprehensible way, was to flee. Being a religious man, he also confessed that the only explanation that came to mind at that moment was that he was in Purgatory. However, he managed to control his emotions and, in an act of courage, lifted Paulsen in his arms and removed him from the church. Outside, at a safe distance from the church and with Paulsen lying in the garden, my great-grandfather watched the church being consumed by the silent flames. The light became gradually stronger; at the same time its size diminished, the church disappeared. After the phenomenon many compared to that of a melting wax candle, all that remained of the church was a pasty, gelatinous mass—or so it seemed to whoever was watching then—that glowed, though, after a few minutes, the glow had cooled until it completely disappeared, leaving only the amorphous shape of what had once been bricks and wood.
From that point on, my great-grandfather’s handwriting became increasingly shaky and hard to read. By his handwriting, it was evident that the experience had shaken him greatly, leaving a trauma that was reflected in his scrawled writing, expressing his chaotic state of mind, with a shapeless frame expressing the feelings of a disturbed painter. However, the height of horror experienced by my great-grandfather was not seeing the deformed Paulsen, or witnessing the church being swallowed up by an unknown force. What caused my great-grandfather’s writing to become shaky was the other body he found in the laboratory. Tied to a chair in front of the oval machine was a man. From his body came wires and tubes that connected to the machine. The man was apparently dead, judging by his inert aspect. My great-grandfather lamented that he had no chance of saving the man, for the light had become so intense and it sent such a strong heat that increased more and more, hurting those who approached, that the rescue of the second man was impossible. He was a very old black man, and it was at this point that my great-grandfather’s writing was so shaky that I felt great difficulty deciphering its meaning. When I finally understood the last passage that contained the narrative of that fateful incident, I discovered what my great-grandfather had witnessed that had left him with ragged nerves. The black old man was young Dorival. Despite the wrinkles, my great-grandfather was emphatic on writing that he would have recognized that face anywhere.
From what my grandmother tells me, my great-grandfather was always a man of good nature, the kind who rarely lost patience, always preferring conciliation to confrontation. However, she also warned me that when provoked, her father could become an intimidating man. I believe Father Moura had the misfortune to know this unpleasant side of my great-grandfather. I make this statement for two reasons. The first is because what I will report next in the diary is written in a different handwriting. It was my great-grandfather’s handwriting, no doubt, but it was no longer that shaky hand. Now his writing was clear and lucid—as if the vigor of courage had invaded his spirit. The second reason for my assertion is the way Father Moura, when asked by my great-grandfather, offered no resistance in bringing him abreast of what was happening.
I am convinced that my great-grandfather did not quite understand the story the priest told him. The reason for this belief is that, from this point on in the diary, the account becomes extremely confused. For me, at least, it is evident that my great-grandfather, in trying to reproduce what Moura told him, could not remember the terms used by the priest, or even manage to understand the explanation offered to him. We should keep in mind that Roberto Landell de Moura was a physicist from the University of Rome, while my great-grandfather was a semi-illiterate rural worker. So I think it is somewhat redundant to say that the intellectual gap between the two men made communication difficult.
For this reason, what the reader will see in the lines below are not my great-grandfather’s words. Consider this my interpretation of events based on the little that my great-grandfather has been able to explain in his journal and Father Moura’s letter (which I will reproduce in full at the end).
James Paulsen argued for the thesis that there were dimensions other than those known to science but that our cognitive apparatus did not allow us to see—just as a bat or earthworm does not see and interpret the world by sound and touch respectively, humans also would be limited by their five senses. According to his theory, the human soul was as material as the physical body and existed in another dimension, which he called “transdimension.” Because it is condensed matter at a different energy level from which human consciousness is accustomed, we could not see or touch the human soul. The physicist claimed that the human soul would be a part of the human body, as real as the heart or brain, and from w
here our consciousness would emanate. In transdimension, the human soul, as well as the thoughts and feelings that are part of it, are as material as a leg or arm of the human body. James Paulsen wrote several articles on the subject and all were summarily rejected by academic journals. Considered an eccentric by colleagues in the scientific community, Paulsen immediately won the sympathy and friendship of Father Moura, not so much because he shared his ideas, which, from the point of view of Catholic doctrine, were heresy, but for understanding what it was like to be discredited by all. After all, when he said that his discoveries in the telecommunications area would allow communication with other planets, Landell de Moura was called crazy by President Rodrigues Alves.
However, the scientist-priest was forced to revise his view of his friend’s theory upon discovering bioelectrography. When photographing an object with a photographic plate, subject to electric fields of high voltage, high frequency, and low current intensity, the result was the appearance of a luminous halo around the object photographed. Everything seems to indicate that the strange photos that my great-grandfather claims to have seen at a glance in Father Moura’s laboratory were bioelectrographies. Initially, Moura believed he had established the scientific proof of the human soul. However, doubts arose when performing the same experiment with inanimate objects and obtaining the same results.
Moura sent the results of his research to James Paulsen who, in turn, began his own work, based on his discoveries. The two exchanged correspondence, describing the results of their respective experiments over the next few years. When they realized that their joint research had advanced to a point that it had become impossible to go on as long as they remained separated by distance, Paulsen came to Brazil. Once together at the Brazilian’s residence, Moura and Paulsen began working on a means of proving the latter’s theories. The duo’s first attempt was to create a machine that enlarged the human senses and allowed the transdimension to be seen. However, as the research developed, Moura and Paulsen began to discover other possibilities. As the construction of a machine for such a purpose proved increasingly unfeasible, and in addition, such a machine would prove nothing, since there would always be those who would accuse them of fraud, the two scientists decided to go the opposite way. Instead of creating a machine that would allow us to see the dimension where the human soul existed, the two built a machine that would bring the human soul to our dimension.
Once the machine was built, the first experiment with the machine was a success. Moura and Paulsen were able to extract the perianth (the scientific name with which priest had baptized the human soul, given the similarity of the halo in the photographs to the petals of a flower) of a copper vase. The perianth of the vase was stored in the transparent cylinder. That’s when Moura and Paulsen made another unexpected discovery: when brought into our dimension, the perianth became a powerful source of energy.
Faced with this unexpected turn in events, Landell de Moura decided to end the experiment (for reasons that will be explained by the author at the end of this narrative). However, James Paulsen was persuasive enough to convince his friend to perform one last experiment: to extract the perianth from a living being. Despite his moral conflicts, the priest finally agreed to carry out the experiment on a German Shepherd puppy, which resulted in the most terrifying discovery of all. Extracting the perianth from a live being caused brutal side effects in the body, aging it to a near-death state. The pup survived the experience, although in a later note in another diary my great-grandfather claims that the animal died of old age about two months later.
As for what happened at the dawn of August 15th, 1909, this is what Roberto Landell de Moura told my great-grandfather: according to the priest, Paulsen was eager to try to extract the perianth of a human being. After the first experiments, Moura and Paulsen discovered that there was a scale of energy level of the objects. In other words, a table didn’t have as much energy as a dog. By this line of reasoning, it wasn’t difficult to deduce that the perianth of a human had more energy than a table or a dog. Paulsen speculated on the possibilities offered by the discovery, how the perianth could revolutionize the transport industry and replace the known energy sources, such as oil and coal. Because it was an easy and inexpensive method of energy extraction—after all, the machine had been built by two men in the basement of a church—Paulsen believed they would both be millionaires with their invention.
The moral objection of Father Moura was more than understandable: how could Paulsen even consider reducing human beings to a mere source of energy? They knew the side effects of perianth extraction. Who would decide who lives and who dies? Paulsen’s response brought great displeasure to the religious: he argued that blacks were perfect for this purpose. There were many of them out there. Negroes only caused confusion, robbed, raped white women; therefore, that would be the best way to give them some measure of usefulness. These words made Moura lock the basement door and buy a passage back for Paulsen on the next ship sailing to the United States.
However, his racist colleague did not give up. He kidnapped young Dorival, invaded the church’s laboratory in the middle of the night and performed the experiment on his own. The tragedy occurred because the receptacle designed to hold the perianth was not large and strong enough to hold the energy of a human being. The phenomenon of colors that had consumed St. Joseph’s Church and deformed James Paulsen had been triggered by the perianth of the young Dorival.
I must now present a brief account of later events, since seven years have passed between the St. Joseph’s Church fire and the time when my great-grandfather received the letter from Father Moura. After being discharged from the hospital, Paulsen returned to the United States. Apparently everything had returned to normal, since in the ten years that followed I did not read in the daily reports of new bizarre events. From what can be inferred from the writings, Landell de Moura had lost interest in science, resigned to dedicate himself only to the priesthood. Thanks to Father Moura, my great-grandfather got a job in the new church to which the priest had been assigned.
The event I wish to report is an entry in the diary dated August 13th, 1919. My great-grandfather was painting the church wall when he heard a cry coming from the window of Father Moura’s office. Knocking on the door and asking permission to enter, he found the priest visibly downcast. “The man was as white as the candles in front of him,” wrote my great-grandfather, referring to the fact that Moura was kneeling before a set of lit candles, kneeling and praying with a bible open on a bench. He reported that he had called the priest three times until he had reacted, seeing the state of concentration he was in. The priest stood up, went to his table, and told my great-grandfather to sit down. The reason for the abatement was due to a dream he had had the night before. Initially, the priest ignored as being only the fruit of the unconscious, for, being a man skilled in the sciences, he was privy to Sigmund Freud’s theory of interpretation of dreams. However, a letter from James Paulsen had arrived in the mail that day. The two men had not spoken since the incident at St. Joseph’s Church, and the content of both the letter and the dream had convinced Father Moura that what he had had the night before had been more than a dream. My great-grandfather did not know what the priest dreamed about, nor was Paulsen’s letter content revealed to him. All Landell de Moura told him was that he would have to travel to the United States for a while and that my great-grandfather would take good care of the parish.
Now we finally come to the letter that my great-grandfather received from Father Roberto Landell de Moura—which undoubtedly is the strongest proof in favor of the story reported in this text. It was sent from the United States and reached the hands of my great-grandfather on November 20th, 1919. I am not a calligraphy expert, but, comparing the handwriting of the letter with that of the documents written by Father Moura, exhibited in the Porto Alegre Museum of Radiology, I maintain that it does not seem to me to be a hoax. In addition, the yellowed paper, with moth marks on the edges and a strong musty
smell, which can be felt throughout the paper, make this hypothesis even more unlikely. I transcribe below the contents of Roberto Landell de Moura’s letter. Please take note that I decided to transcribe the letter, adapting it to contemporary Portuguese, eliminating the “orthography” of the 1910s.
My dear friend Giuseppe,
I write this letter to you because you are the only one I can count on in this moment of distress. I am writing these words in the New York port. I’m sitting presently at a diner near the agency where I just bought a ticket on the Jennifer III, in which I’ll embark to Europe in a few months. My destination is Italy. I have a meeting with Vatican officials. Unfortunately, my findings have had unpredictable and disastrous consequences and it is of the utmost importance that action be taken immediately to avoid further tragedies. It is to prevent the worst from happening that I come to ask for your help through this letter. I ask you, when you finish reading, do not tell anyone, not even to your wife Marisa, what I have confided to you here, and burn this document.
You must remember that afternoon of August 13th when I called you to my office and told you I was going to travel to the United States. The reason for my departure, as you may have noticed, was the letter I received. I think you clearly realized how shaken I was that day, almost on the brink of collapse. I must thank God, because my faith and many prayers gave me the strength to not succumb to evil and rise up. I do not need to tell you what happened here in the United States. I could only beg you to do what I ask you to do at the end of this reading without further explanation. But I’ve decided it’s best to let you know the situation. I believe it will serve as an incentive for you to carry out the task that I will ask you to. You understand, my dear fellow, that I consider you a man of good heart, and therefore I believe it is only fair that you know all the facts. God help us.
Solarpunk: Ecological and Fantastical Stories in a Sustainable World Page 14
