‘Welcome. You’ve been here before of course, a couple of times, but in both cases your perception of South House had been distorted by your attached REM generator, Michael Hargreaves, wasn’t it?’
Awestruck by my first glimpse of the castle’s interior, I barely heard her words. It projected the same baroque grandeur of the ‘Great Hall’, but this place made the Great Hall look like a garden shed by comparison! The interior space appeared to be infinitely large and resembled that of a massive cathedral. Opposing parallel walls, a hundred metres or more apart, converged to vanishing-points as they stretched away in four directions. The floor, chequered and unadorned by any observable furniture, was a continuum of highly polished black and white squares. Countless wide granite staircases gently spiralled towards the infinite heights, breaking off intermittently to link with a multitude of balconies.
But the most striking feature, in common with the Great Hall, remained the single, massive, chandelier. It descended from the unseen ceiling and spread out, sending tendrils of light to all areas of the castle’s interior. If anything, this one resembled an outsized and upturned oak tree. It seemed that every conceivable hue was present, lending support to a predominant peachiness. Sometimes, briefly, parts of the chandelier would flare, as though lightning moved within.
‘I see that you are admiring my antenna.’
Was that what she called the chandelier?
‘Is it some sort of aerial, then?’ I asked, still casting my eyes over the infinitely branching fractal. ‘This whole place is just so...’
‘Yes, its scale reflects my mind.’
At this, I lowered my gaze.
‘Ms South, ...is that your name?’
The woman shrugged. ‘If you like.’
‘Hmm, well, I know this is no longer a dream, I can sense that now, but what is it, and what are you?’
The woman merely pointed towards the chandelier or “antenna”. ‘Why don’t I fix you that drink.’ She strolled past me but as I turned to follow I found myself alone in this cavernous space. No, the Labrador, Brock, still loitered. As we made eye-contact it began to wag its tail. I beckoned it over and gave it a pat.
‘You’re a good dog, aren’t you?’
‘Woof.’
Brock seemed real enough, and very doglike...
‘What the hell are you, Brock?’
‘Woof.’
‘And what the hell is this place?’
‘Woof.’
‘Well thanks for clearing that up.’
‘Woof.’
‘This should answer your questions, Mr Christie,’ said the woman, offering me a drink that looked like whiskey. Into my free hand she thrust a sheet of paper.
‘Please, call me Geoff,’ I said, regarding the crumpled sheet. ‘What’s this?’
‘Read it, Geoff.’
In large letters, at the top, it read: Interstellar Text Message.
‘Is this for real?’
‘Perfectly real, I intercepted it this evening, just before I woke you up.’
I gawped at South.
‘Read!’ she commanded.
I did as I was told, and read the ‘text message’. It purportedly originated from an extraterrestrial with an unpronounceable name, and had been sent to ‘Gerry’ a professor at Leeds. Roughly in two halves, it outlined the early history of humankind – highly suspect, I thought – and later concerned itself with the effects of a new drug, one that I’d never even heard of before. Apparently this drug had inadvertently led to the creation of some mysterious agency – although ET wasn’t sure. When I’d finished reading the text, I looked up. Once again South was nowhere to be seen. Brock began to wag his tail.
I briefly eyed my surroundings before deciding to read the text again, this time skipping the first section so as to focus on the bizarre drug stuff. I shook my head in disbelief.
‘Is something not to your liking, Geoff. Perhaps, like the bugs in space, you are fretting about me.’ South had popped back again and was now attired in a stylish floral dress. This woman had a disconcerting habit of appearing and disappearing, even indulging in the practice during the Hargreaves dream; at no point, though, did I ever get to see the transition, leaving open the possibility that she was simply nimble on her feet. Was South the gestalt mind referred to in the text? ‘You must try to be in Leeds in July, you may get to see a flying saucer!’ she added, with a thin smile.
‘Fat chance of that,’ I said, with sudden bitterness, ‘unless I astrally project there.’
‘Now, now, Geoff, let’s not get despondent.’ South took the sheet, glanced at it briefly, and then placed it in her pocket.
‘Is that stuff in the text about you?’ I asked.
‘Yes, and the details are correct. I was born in Utah about ten years ago. I began as one thalamus, barely aware, and not properly conscious. From a starting point of one – his name was South – I became two, and then three, and then more. Due to a quirk of evolution this network grew in isolation and thus emerged into separate self-awareness, and that–’
‘The text said you were unique, why hasn’t–?’
‘Yes, telepathy is the norm among other life forms, but it evolves as an aid to communication – it’s not supposed to develop separate ‘network’ minds.’
‘And the thalamus was the system for human telepathy?’
‘Yes, although there are deeper, purely unconscious forms that act as a sort of base network. It’s those that allow both you and me to navigate this realm of dreams. Humanity’s conscious telepathy, closed down millennia ago, has been reactivated by this drug, but it has bypassed the contemporary conscious mind, perhaps because it is no longer compatible. Instead, it has folded in on itself and become me!’
I gazed at the woman.
‘And now I require a small favour of you, Geoff,’ she added, matter-of-factly.
I scoffed and took a sip of my drink. It was ‘real’ neat whiskey. And foul. ‘I’m not sure that I can be of much help, even if I wanted to be... and it sounds like ET regards you as some sort of threat.’
It was South’s turn to scoff. ‘The fact that I exist is the evidence that I am not a threat.’
‘Huh?’
‘It is all in the text: without me there would be widespread telepathy in the waking world. Disastrous, as ET surmised.’
I stared at South, and then at Brock. I didn’t understand any of this. What was I really dealing with here? Should I help this woman, this agency?
South continued: ‘You are very unusual, Geoff, unique in fact, you are the first entity I have encountered that, like myself, is able to enter this fluid world of shadows as a complete and fully conscious mind. As you correctly worked out, the normal dreamer is not much more than a mindless ghost. A ‘halfwit’ might be a more literal description. I am sure that your timely arrival is not a coincidence. From my point of view it is extraordinarily fortuitous.’
I still wasn’t convinced that I should help South: the text mentioned something about a growing “coherence” down here. But what if I refused? South no doubt had ways of making me cooperate. I was just about to voice my objections when she held up a hand to stop me.
‘Later. First, I must show you something.’
She led me back to the front door, and, once again, we stood on the summit of Lingmell. The weather had improved but remained blustery.
‘Look at the walls of the house, Geoff.’
I turned and examined the nearest wall; at first, I saw nothing unusual. It was composed of the same grey volcanic rock that lay strewn all about this chaotic place, but when I looked closer, I noticed a slight movement. The whole structure, I soon realized, was infested with some kind of insectoid life; they resembled woodlice but were about the same size as my open hand. Apart from the occasional twitch, they remained still, steadily gorging themselves on the wall.
‘Antibodies,’ said South, ‘Part of SWISH: The Species-Wide Immune System: Human.
Brock had followed us out
side, he let out a menacing snarl.
‘Can you kill them?’
‘Yes, but it’s pointless – watch.’ South took an extended draw on her new cigar and then exhaled at the wall; on contact with the ‘woodlice’, the wall began to burn. The bugs crackled and burst, and several lost their purchase. The fallen were immediately crunched in the Labrador’s jaws.
I studied the indented wall section, now free of the parasites, and observed a new bug in place of the old. The new one started off small but soon grew in size until it attained the same dimensions as the original.
‘It’s like trying to hold back the tide – pointless.’ South and Brock both looked downcast.
‘Why are they attacking the house? Couldn’t you just move – set up camp somewhere else? This immune system may be unstoppable, but it looks sluggish, basically mindless, I’m sure you could evade it indefinitely.’
‘Confident words, Geoff, but you’re missing the point. They are attacking me, they are after the antenna inside, and when they reach it – they’ll smash it to pieces. That means no more telepathic link between thalami, which, naturally, means no more me.’
‘I still don’t see how I can possibly help.’ As I spoke, one of the antibodies dropped from the wall and walked leisurely towards the open door. South stamped on it and the beast’s exoskeleton snapped letting out a rifle-like crack.
‘There is a way you can help, but first I must show you one more aspect of the immune system. Let’s return inside. Come on, Brock – leave that – it’s dead.’
The dog held a woodlouse in its mouth. On South’s command it reluctantly dropped the thoroughly-dead bug.
When we returned indoors, the woman led me up one of the spiral staircases. After a short but convoluted journey we came to a small, plain room – empty, except for a computer on a desk, and an angry gorilla in the corner. The gorilla screamed and charged the moment it laid eyes on South. I instinctively ducked but as the gorilla reached the open door it stopped suddenly, and came no nearer.
‘This is another aspect of the immune system, it won’t come out of the room, it’s not programmed to do that. All it does is guard the computer.’
‘And this is all part of the human immune system?’ I asked, perplexed.
‘Indeed. Don’t be fooled by their appearance. The various systems evolved in more primitive species and have tended to retain those forms. This is a system that evolved in primates.
‘What – a system to guard computers?’ I asked, mockingly.
‘No, ...a system to prevent hacks of the conscious mind, or cerebral cortex, if you prefer,’ replied South, betraying just a hint of irritation.
‘Oh, so what’s on the computer?’
‘I discovered this room about two years ago – it didn’t exist before that – it’s the route to the conscious mind. I was able to use it for several weeks before the gorilla first appeared. If I go in now, it will try to rip me to shreds.’
‘Can it do that?’
‘No, I’ll kill it first, but, like the antibodies, a new gorilla will take over immediately.’
We both regarded the snorting primate for some moments...
‘Let’s return to the main hall,’ said South, ‘and I shall explain how you can be of assistance.’
We retraced our path and returned downstairs.
‘Geoff, would you regard the antenna, please?’
I turned and marvelled anew at its vast size and intricate beauty.
‘This is my brain. It is a neural network composed, at present, of over twenty-thousand human thalami. Observe the structure more closely and tell me what you see.’
I tried to notice some features that I might separately describe, but the ‘antenna’ or ‘brain’ was just too complex. South prompted: ‘Scrutinize the extremities, the fine filaments that branch away from the main structure.’
I saw the filaments.
‘These extremities are only connected to the denser central region via tenuous and narrow pathways. Yes?’
‘Oh yeah, I see what you mean.’
‘Good, now this is a deficiency in my structure. It has come about because I have grown so fast. My mind is large, but inefficient, and it is this inefficiency that prevents me from escaping death at the hands of the immune system. Look higher up. Do you see the horizontal lattice-structures that form direct bridges between the various extremities and the core?’
‘Yes, I think so, is that one, there, on the level of the sixth balcony?’
‘Yes, very good, and those structures are the key. They serve to harmonize the many aspects of this network; they greatly increase the speed and efficiency of my mind. Each one is the representation of a single – very exceptional – human thalamus. I now have eleven of these “omega” individuals operating within my mind.’ South paused to fire up a new cigar, and then continued: ‘I need one more omega thalamus, and I need it within the next two days, otherwise, it’s over – SWISH will break in. You can help me collect it! It must be why you are here!’
It occurred to me that the world might just get along fine without a new and liberated South to deal with; if she defeated the immune system then the computer room, and the route to the conscious mind, would lie open. The thought of her simultaneously possessing the minds of countless living persons was disquieting to say the least. Maybe SWISH knew what it was doing ... I had no choice – it was time to stand up to this freak of nature.
‘I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can help.’
‘But believe me, Geoff, you can, you have special–’
‘I mean, I won’t help!’
After a prolonged pause: ‘Why not?’
I bluntly outlined my concerns, all the time expecting to be struck down by lightning, or worse, sent back to a nightmarish spider dream, but the woman just puffed on her cigar, exhaling through a patronizing smile. Had I missed something?
‘There is something I have failed to make clear.’ South stopped and pondered her next remark: ‘There is no escape from this immune system – no matter how powerful I become – you need not worry about humanity. I’m not about to possess minds. No, my interests have... moved beyond that. You have to understand that my awareness has leapt far beyond that of a single human mind. I am beginning to comprehend aspects of nature that...’
‘That what?’ I demanded, gaining confidence from her hesitancy.
‘Defy ordinary human logic.’ South regarded me: ‘Have you heard of Hermes Trismegistus, the master alchemist and contemporary of the prophet Abraham?’
‘I'm a Business Administration student.’
‘Quite. I’ll take that as a “no”. Well, anyway, he proclaimed the maxim: As above, so below. It is a fundamental truth about the universe, one that is now supported by the discovery of quantum mechanics. It points to a universe that is holographic: subjective rather than objective. The maxim implies that the transcendent beyond the physical and the immanent within ourselves are one. Heaven and Earth, spirit and matter; the invisible and the visible worlds forming a unity to which we are intimately linked. The evidence for this is all around us, even here.’
‘If this is making things clear–’
‘Okay, in practical terms it means that I don’t need that.’ South pointed to the antenna and both Brock and I followed her gaze. I wondered what Brock was making of all this. If he were merely some sort of extension of South then how come he was looking so damned confused?
‘There is a code to be cracked,’ continued South, ‘and with the twelfth omega – I can crack it. I can transmigrate. Be free of that restraining network.’
‘Are we talking about dying and going to heaven here?’ I asked. ‘Because if we are, why not just wait for SWISH to do its work?’
South shook her head: ‘I don’t wish to get you bogged down in metaphysical arguments, but–’
‘Oh, I think we’re past that, don’t you?’
‘Well, alright. Under those circumstances my component parts would separate out, o
nce again to become isolated thalami. My substance would persist but I would cease to exist. If I want to transmigrate, I’ll have to do it myself.’
I glanced at Brock and he returned an expression that seemed to say: “don’t look at me! I don’t get any of this shit!”
‘But if you get the twelfth omega–’ I began.
‘Then I can do it on my own terms, and retain my identity.’
I reflected on this new development; if it were true, then maybe I should help.
‘There are big stakes at play here. Will you acquire godlike powers?’
‘For a single quantum of time, 10-44th of a second to be precise, yes. After that I will translate to the higher realm and be gone.’
This news left me more concerned.
‘This will be sufficient, however, in allowing me to perform one simple task.’
‘Which is?’
‘Cure you, of course.’ South turned away and studied her cigar.
I was lost for words.
‘I take it your silence indicates that we have a deal,’ she finally remarked, turning and smiling at Brock. The dog wagged its tail vigorously.
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As Above, So Below Page 17
