The Pandora Effect

by Olivia Darnell

  “Naw, come on, Billy!” Tyler stepped between them. “For Chrissakes. There ain’t no sense in this.”

  “Go on home, Mr. Johnson,” Perry told him. “I’m afraid you are drunk.”

  Tyler pulled on Billy and got an elbow in the ribs for his effort. He stepped back and bent over slightly as Mike stepped up to take hold of Billy.

  Perry walked out into the grass between the building and the sidewalk and stooped to pick up the little mouse from where it had landed after the vicious kick. Its front legs twitched and then it lay still in his hand. Perry held it up and blew softly into it’s face. After a second or two the mouse flipped over in his hand and curled its tail around its body. Perry walked to the pavement at the rear of the building and let the mouse go. It scurried away and disappeared into a small hole at the base of the building.

  “Dammit, Billy!” Tyler gasped from behind them. “You like to’ve broke my ribs.”

  “Come on, Billy.” Mike pulled on him. “Let’s go home.”

  Perry turned to look at them in the streetlight.

  “Can’t do that.” Billy shook him off like a rag doll. Billy was looking for a fight. He loved to fight and he had been in more scrapes than Mike could count. He especially loved to fight with new people no matter who they were or where they were. It could be the creek or it could be down at Harold’s. But Perry Aliger was not some poor dumb bastard blowing through town.

  Billy walked toward Perry.

  “Billy!” Mike shouted to him. “That ain’t a good idea.”

  “Mike!” Tyler passed the smaller man and grabbed hold of his arm. “You gotta help me.”

  “You’re gonna get your head cracked!” Mike told him, but followed along.

  “Come on back here and take your medicine, pretty boy,” Billy grinned at Perry.

  He continued on until he was within striking distance and threw a punch at Perry’s head. Perry ducked and Billy spun around in circle before catching his balance.

  “You really should go home,” Perry told him again in a low voice.

  Perry stepped back nearer the building in the shadows.

  Billy took another swing at him and when Perry ducked again, he smashed his knuckles against the cinderblocks. The big guy jumped back and danced around holding his fist and cursing.

  Mike and Tyler tried to get hold of him, but he flung off their attempts. He bellowed like a bull stuck in a mud hole and ran at Perry with his head down. Perry once again easily sidestepped the charge and Billy stumbled off into the driveway where he eventually butted his head into the side of Tyler’s work truck. The heavy-duty toolbox did not budge. He bounced back and ended up sitting splay-legged on the wet concrete. He sat dazed, shaking his head. Tyler went to open his truck door and then tried, with Mike’s help, to get Billy up and into the truck. When they had him on his feet again, he tore loose from them once more to lunge at Perry. Perry moved out of the way just in time for Billy to bang himself against the underside of the metal staircase. The staircase gonged like a huge bell. Billy turned slowly and then crumpled into the wet grass.

  Perry shook his head and looked down at the man. Mike started forward again and Perry caught his arm.

  “Allow me,” he said and knelt beside the half-conscious man. He placed one hand on Billy’s shoulder. Billy stiffened slightly and then let out a short moan before becoming completely limp on the grass.

  Perry stood up. “Take him home, gentlemen. He’ll be fine tomorrow. A little sore, but nothing serious.”

  “It’s been a real pleasure Mr. Padgett,” Perry told Mike as he followed them while they hauled Billy’s bulk to the truck and pushed him up into the seat. “I’m looking forward to doing business with you.”

  “I’m real sorry about Billy,” Mike told him sadly. “He ain’t got no sense when he’s drinkin’ and he ain’t got much when he ain’t.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Perry told him. “I expected as much.”

  Tyler slid under the wheel and started the truck. He slammed the door and looked at Perry. He was speechless with embarrassment and his ribs hurt terribly from Billy’s elbow. He figured he’d paid the price for his foolishness. He should have never brought Billy here to start with. He nodded to Perry and waited for Mike to get in the other side before backing out of the drive.

  Perry watched them until the taillights disappeared down the street leading out of town. He then went back to retrieve his little friend from the hole in the cinderblocks. “I’m sorry, my furry little friend,” he told the mouse as he carried it up the stairs. “Some people are just harder to understand than others.”

  Angelica stood at the top of the stairs in her bathrobe watching him. Apparently the noise of the last crash on the stairs had awakened her.

  Perry set the mouse down in front of his house. Angelica held the door for her husband and they went to sit by the tall windows. Angelica curled up in her chair and looked at him.

  “Did you accomplish anything of value?” She asked casually.

  “I accomplished what I set out to do,” he said.

  “And what was that?” She asked.

  “I gave Mike Padgett a new direction and the opportunity to rise above his superstitions.”

  “His acceptance of you was based entirely on economics. He needed money and you had some,” she said. “He put aside his personal feelings toward you long enough to get what he needed and as soon as his need is fulfilled, he will revert to his former frame of mind. He looks upon us and everything else he does not understand as manifestations of the dark power. He thinks we are evil. I find that it is near impossible to tolerate such unfounded ignorance. If any of the universal soul is at work in Mr. Padgett, it is very limited indeed. There are too many like him. The Mike Padgetts of this world are exactly why this study is being done. Are you not affected by the actions of Mr. Johnson? He would have injured you for no reason. A very distressing creature. He is motivated by aggressions he cannot begin to understand, justify or explain. He cannot compete with you or even converse with you on an intellectual level, therefore he reverts to completely instinctual reactions and attempts to destroy you physically. He is consumed with an inferiority complex wherein he wishes to reduce everything to a physical level. He is a good example of your basic instinctual reflex response. Is he on your hidden agenda?”

  “He was ruled by alcohol,” Peregrin told her shortly.

  “He would have killed your mouse with or without the influence,” she countered. “It is in his basic nature to kill. He would have done the same to you. He would have hurt you just for the sake of hurting you. You do realize that you are not beyond being hurt... seriously injured?”

  “Of course,” he told her. “I am not concerned with Billy Johnson.”

  “Need I remind you that he will be bent on revenge? You humiliated him in front of his friends.”

  “No, you don’t have to tell me that,” Perry said thoughtfully. “I knew when he came in that he would seize any opportunity to do what he did. I had already decided to avoid the confrontation at all costs, but there are too many variables to consider when it comes to making such broad assumptions. I didn’t take the mouse into account. Such things are part of life. Random variables are impossible to calculate. As for being seriously injured, I have contemplated the possibility quite often. In fact, I have often wondered what it would feel like to die.”

  “You would be incorporated,” she told him simply. “But, as you well know, you may not be able to manifest yourself again completely. The theory that the portion of the universal element you possess at present can be retained in its entirety has not been tested. Would you risk losing part of yourself? The idea that the universal soul is one contiguous entity is still in question. We are here to determine if this population is made up of part of the whole or if it is distinct and separate. If you die here, there is no way to know what could happen to your soul. Certainly, since the soul is eternal, you would be incorporated, but would you be incorporated i
nto this distinct branch or would you return to the original? If the contiguous proposition holds, then this population is just part of the whole and you would have no worries, however...”

  “You always say ‘if’. I believe that you already know that the universal soul is one entity and that this is but one branch. You condescend to talk to me. If I jump from this window and die, would you weep for me, or just wait for me to return? You know nothing of me. Your objective is to determine if this branch is worth preserving or if it has degenerated into such a state of disrepair that it is not worth saving. You are trying to determine if the essence is stretched too thin. This population is very great, but there are differences in concentration. You are trying to determine if there are actual bald spots, so to speak, wherein someone can actually be born and live to maturity without a soul at all. I can tell you this, Angelica, there are people here without souls and there are people here with more than their share. The fabric has lumps. We are so far from the center, the rules do not apply. The question is, what do we do about it?”

  Angelica blinked at him, but did not answer his questions nor comment on them.

  “Furthermore, if good and evil are one and the same, then why are we not all the same? You told Louis Parks that you and he were virtually the same from the cosmic perspective. But why are some inherently good and others inherently evil?” He continued to prod her with his questions. “If you want to teach me something, Angelica, teach me that.”

  “That is the question I would try to answer,” she said finally. “If... I mean since these people contain parts of the universal soul, then the key to the difference between good and evil manifestations must lie within them somewhere. I want to find that key before I make the determination whether to recommend that they be re-incorporated into the whole or cut off entirely. If we re-incorporate them and then find that we have contaminated the universal soul...”

  She paused and Perry glanced at her.

  “Is it possible that they are something entirely different from us?” He asked.

  “I think not,” she said. “But I want to be sure. Not only do their myths and legends bear out the connection, but there is tangible evidence in hundreds of locations around the globe. I have visited several of these so-called centers of paranormal activity and I have discovered that these things they call ghosts and poltergeists are merely bits and pieces of leftover metaphysical properties which once belonged to a physical manifestation. That is why I do not want to experience death here. I am afraid that some part of me or perhaps all of me could become trapped here. I have even communicated with some of these metaphysical leftovers directly, but my findings are inconclusive. The pieces were too ethereal. In fact, if you would be interested, I could take you to interview one of them right now.”

  “Where?” He frowned at her.

  “There is one in the Gift Shop,” she told him and raised both eyebrows.

  “No, I am not interested in them.” He shook his head adamantly.

  “At any rate, I intend to make another study of them in a formless state. I believe I may have been constricted by physical form.”

  “This world is so vast and yet, so small in the scheme of nature. I fail to see how so many could have arisen here.”

  “They are out of control,” she nodded. “It is one of their most distinguishing characteristics. They are much too prolific. One thing I have determined about the presence of the universal soul is that it does not grow and it does not shrink. If this is indeed a part of it, it has not been distributed properly. It does have lumps as you say. The more people, there are, the thinner it becomes. I believe that sometime, somewhere the next step was not taken. In the beginning, it is necessary to divide and multiply, but after an upper limit is reached, it is time to take the next step. It seems that something was omitted here. And as you have so astutely surmised, it is the stretching that has given rise to the Billy Johnsons of this world. And not to be unfair to him in particular there are worse examples: mass murderers, genocidal maniacs, psychopaths, devotees of the black arts. Even so, there is as you would say, a flip side. In contrast to the thin spots, there are thick spots. These are the Mother Theresas, the da Vincis, the Edisons and the Einsteins and even they had to struggle against the powers of evil within their own minds. None here are exempt from the evil influences. If you were to delve into the earliest records, you would find that evil has always plagued these people. It seems to be a global contaminant. That is why I am concerned about re-incorporation. Where did this contamination come from? Why are these people here?”

  “You don’t know?” He asked somewhat surprised by her questions.

  “If I knew all the answers, Peregrin, there would be no reason for this study.” Angelica looked at him as if he were an earthworm. “It is simply not possible for all the billions of people alive today to possess original souls. They are in a constant state of recycling. They call it reincarnation and rightly so. But with each generation the recycled souls are stretched and thinned to the point of non-existence. While some receive full portions, others receive virtually nothing. If you were to die here, Peregrin, your soul would have to fight to avoid being torn to shreds. Part of you would go here and part would go there and there would be no you, unless there is some way for the stronger souls to hold together long enough to be reincarnated relatively whole. It is one of my pet theories that such things are taking place hence the Dalai Llamas, the prophets, the artists, the geniuses. But they are far and few between. Think of it, Peregrin. If Leonardo da Vinci managed to hold onto himself, but was then born in an igloo in the Arctic Circle or if Wolfgang Mozart were reborn in the mountains of Ecuador or Michelangelo found himself starving in a refugee camp in Somalia, what could he accomplish then? There must be an answer.”

  “That is an interesting concept,” Perry had to agree. “Have you made any attempt to determine if such individuals exist?”

  “It would be a mountainous task,” she told him. “Where would one start?”

  “Are you still angry with me?” He asked suddenly.

  “I was never angry with you.”

  “Then you were frustrated with me?” He tried again. “Have you considered what we were discussing before our visitors arrived? I know that you were not reading a book. You never read books.”

  “No, I have not considered it at all,” she said. “Of all the emotions these people possess, love is the most dangerous of all. Some of the most horrendous crimes ever committed were the result of love or of the lack of it.”

  “That is extremely disappointing,” he sighed. “Especially since it is so heavily intermixed with your study.”

  “I fail to see how you can deduce that,” she said. “Love has nothing to do with our subjects.”

  “I fear you are wrong,” he said. “I believe that you will find that our subjects are almost entirely motivated by love or the lack of it as you just said.”

  “Love! It is always the same with you.” She sat up straight in the chair. It was the longest conversation he had ever had with her, but he could not resist the urge to engage her on the topic so dear to his heart. “I believe that I forbade you to speak to me about it. In all your meanderings have you ever experienced hatred as well? Have you found someone or something you absolutely hate? Something you wish to destroy? It is a very powerful emotion. Perhaps even stronger than your love and according to these people, hardly distinguishable at times. For example, you have induced Mildred Morris to do something that, in the eyes of her peers, would seem to be an act of love. But it is not that at all. Her ‘love’ for her deceased husband is a sham. She found the man despicable in life. She wants to build a memorial to herself, but is unwilling to admit it. If she had love in her heart, she would donate the land to a local charity and never look back nor expect nor accept recognition for the deed. She is also motivated by spite for her neighbor Mary McDaniels. She feels that she can redeem her mistreatment of her neighbor by doing a good deed.”

  “S
o you do know something of love!” He leaned to look at her in amusement. “If you know something of hate, then you must know something of love because you cannot know one without knowing the other. It is impossible.”

  “Yes, I know a great deal about root causes,” she told him.

  “And I am studying root causes,” he said brightly. “I am endeavoring to understand your root causes.”

  “I am not a subject for you to study, Peregrin,” she sighed. “I have told you that before. Why do you insist on wasting time? I would find it easier to study war than peace. Love will never rule this planet. It is a waste of time to pursue it.”

  “I do not think it is a waste of time,” he said. “You are at hand and while you exist in this form, you have the capability of manifesting all the same behaviors of our subjects. I want to compare you to them as the control.”

  “That’s preposterous,” she laughed. “As I stated, I would feel more inclined to manifest the vestments of hatred since it would better suit these people’s frames of reference. We are not conducting experiments in spite of your analogies to the rats in the maze. We are merely conducting a study of existing conditions by altering or affecting certain stimuli. If I were to step into the maze, I would not go in with less than a full suit of armor and, indeed, armed to the teeth and prepared to wage full scale war. We are giving them choices they would not otherwise have had the opportunity to make. There is no control. Their responses are to be observed and reported. I have my own theories and my own opinions, it is true, but we are not to add or subtract anything.”

  “I also have my own theories and if I use my spare time to study them, then it would have no detrimental effects on our study, correct?” He asked.

  “Only if you devote the time necessary to our study,” she told him. A concession, at last.

  “Then I would like to have permission to ask questions of you from time to time.” He pushed a bit.

  “If I have time to answer,” she nodded.