Seven Point Eight (34 page)

“Okay, I just want you to relax while I record your electromagnetic field.”

She looked directly into his camera lens, totally at ease in Paul’s company. As her electromagnetic field registered through the complex series of lens and prisms he’d created, he saw what amounted to an egg-shaped halo around her body, its colours intensified in the vicinity of her head. Her multi-coloured field radiated hues of blue, purple, indigo and violet.

 
“It’s beautiful,” Paul commented.

“I wonder if it changes when I alter my emotions, or move my consciousness.”

With no prompt from Paul, she began to conduct her own experiment. She thought about something that made her angry or miserable, Max namely, and focused on making her field darker and redder. She gave no clues to Paul indicating the mood she attempted to muster, or the colour she aimed to produce.

“Is anything happening?” she asked him.

“Why, yes…your field is pulsing, or cycling through a range of colours…crimson, with flashes of scarlet and blue. How are you doing that?”

He’d never seen this happen before. He’d also never asked anyone to change their emotional state whilst being measured.

“I’m concentrating my feelings into short bursts,” she answered.

Paul watched a kaleidoscopic display, rather psychedelic yet infinitely beautiful. Then something truly amazing happened. Without warning, a brilliant flash of white light appeared in front of her forehead and disappeared, causing Tahra’s field to expand.

“What did you just do?” he asked her.

As she remained for a moment, he continued to view the spectacle through his camera. Finally, she responded.

“Why? What did you see?” she enquired. “I projected my consciousness.”

Paul wondered if he’d just witnessed something quite spectacular.

“I think I just saw it....”

Tahra sensed her first sense of accomplishment with him.

“And this is our first experiment,” she stated, with a burning ambition. “Just think what we can achieve together.”

Paul realised he’d found the perfect partner. She matched his curiosity and passion, plus his willingness to push the boundaries. Where had she been all his life?

“No wonder you came so highly recommended,” he said.

Tahra felt alive, awakened from a stupor of repetitive and inane experiments. She bathed in the light at the end of the tunnel, spiritual light, and she couldn’t wait to stretch herself beyond the limits.

“What’s next?” she asked, hungry for success.

She was indeed the perfect research subject.

“I have a little aerial test, got to get you flying and reporting back accurately,” he said. “You feel up to it?”

“I certainly do,” she affirmed.

“I’m going to give you a map with a marked location. There’s something in a field that I created with stones. I want you to tell me what it is.” It sounded like the experiments at The Institute. “However, I want you to focus on the journey as much as the outcome. Concentrate on the experience of travelling out of body, survey the landscape, be able to describe it and feel it.”

Inwardly, she breathed a sigh of relief, as for a moment, she thought it would be too identical to her current remote viewing assignments. This experiment seemed more qualitative, experiential, and ground-breaking.

“Okay,” she said, “I understand.”

In her own time, she disembodied her consciousness and instead of homing in on the target immediately, she allowed her non-physical eyes to drift. She envisioned herself as a bird, in particular an eagle, and enjoyed the feeling of travel, flying to the location on the map.

The journey took her across the
Surrey
countryside and she saw it all clearly, rushing beneath her ‘body’. Tahra viewed fields separated by hedges, country roads, and clusters of small towns and villages. She had a clear sense of speed and expediency but felt aware of her surroundings: the crisp autumn sunshine, the russet tones of the leaves, the rise and fall of the
South Downs
, and the roads winding through the greenery.

This is what it must be like to be an eagle.

I’m flying, with no breath of wind, or wings on my body.

My mind is an aeroplane, a bird, a breath of wind.

Soaking up every aspect of the beautiful landscape from her aerial view, she soon reached the coastline, where the land seemed to end abruptly in chalky cliffs, with the waves breaking below on a small, pebbly beach.

She realised she’d overshot and swung round like a bird, turning in flight and heading back inland. The undulating cliffs looked spectacular and she wished she could remain here, out of body, inhaling and exhaling every aspect of this exhilarating experience.

Heading inland, she found the field where Paul had arranged some stones. At first, she saw what appeared to be a random pattern but as she circled her consciousness overhead, she realised the stones spelt out a word. The word wasn’t clear. To pick up accurate detail she needed to narrow her centre of attention and tune out the landscape to some extent. Finally, the word came into focus.

“Cosmos,” she said, still concentrating on the stones.

Paul sat back in his chair. After running his hands through his hair, he laughed. Tahra jolted back into her body, none too pleased.

“I‘d appreciate it if you didn’t make sudden noises!”

Paul was too elated to consider his actions.

“You did it!”

Tahra’s annoyance diffused quickly, infected with his delight.

“Well, I guess I did,” she conceded. “But in future, let me ease back into my head. The sudden snap back is a bit like falling out of bed during a really good dream!”

Paul became more apologetic.

“Okay, I’ll remember that for next time.” Then he added, “I’m impressed you were able to speak while still out of body. That will prove very useful.”

“Yes, Max said this is something I need to develop.”

Tahra had proved her remote viewing capabilities. In fact, he almost felt jealous of her ability to travel like that out of body, so he asked her how it felt.

“Hmmm… liberating,” she replied, a contented smile spreading across her face.

“Ready to progress to the next step?” he prompted.

“Oh, most definitely. Most definitely indeed.”

***

Paul woke early on a crisp November morning with an intense feeling of enthusiasm. Despite the impending wintry weather, his new project made his life feel like the first buds of spring, and the thought of Tahra’s imminent arrival that day spurred him from the bedroom to the kitchen. He filled the kettle, lit the flame on the hob and switched on the radio. Herman’s Hermits sang
‘Something tells me I’m into something good’
and he let loose a chuckle.

Arriving at The Establishment bright and breezy, he set up for Tahra’s arrival and she turned up punctually, just as eager. Life at The Institute had become rather staid and although university study broke up the monotony, she preferred to be at The Establishment with Paul.

“What are we doing today?” she asked him, “Or, should I say, where are we going?”

“I’ve planned some more aerial work,” Paul replied, “but a little higher in altitude.”

She settled into the ‘hot seat’ and he encouraged her to relax. Leaning forward in his chair, he gave her clear objectives.

“Today, we go up, above the clouds, to the edge of space. I want you to survey the coastline of
Italy
, and describe it in avid detail.”

Instead of using map coordinates, she had to project as if she were an aeroplane taking off and climbing to cruising altitude. Her previous work at The Institute had conditioned her into a standardised method of remote viewing, and for this project she needed to break that habit.

Closing her eyes, she focused on a vertical movement of her consciousness, exploding through the crown of her head as opposed to a point between her brows. As she left her body, she felt a rush like a discharge of energy, or a prisoner being released from an eternal cage. She sensed a life without boundaries, and a lucid stillness that filled her with calm.

Tahra pushed through the clouds and towards the blue, unblemished sky of the stratosphere. They parted like mist disintegrating on a sunny day, like the driveway leading to heaven. Gravity didn’t exist, as if she’d left it battered and bruised on the floor of a physics lab.

Freedom.

Total freedom.

The sky turned electric blue, and she realised her altitude may be too high so she creased pushing her consciousness any further. As she looked below, she wanted to exclaim out loud. How could she describe this to Paul?

“This is…so beautiful, but you need a writer or a poet to do this justice. I see…the crystal clarity of the coastline, as if Allah himself is an artist. Looking around…I also see a myriad of
Greek
Islands
, scattered throughout a turquoise sea. Up here, like this, I shouldn’t be able to breathe, yet I can, unhindered by physical limitations. I am blessed…truly blessed.”

Tahra allowed her consciousness to snap back into her body, and she opened her eyes. Paul noted the elation apparent in her eyes.

“You may not be a writer or a poet, but you described that exceptionally well.”

“Thank you for making me part of your vision,” she said, briefly overwhelmed with the experience.

Paul acknowledged her with a nod and asked, “So, do you fancy a flight to the moon?”

***

Between Project OOBE experiments, Tahra made better use of her spare time at The Institute. Instead of listening to the latest hits on Radio Caroline, she relaxed in bed and allowed her consciousness to drift skyward. Up was the only direction now. She loved the sensation of clearing the clouds, as it felt truly inspirational, very spiritual and extremely addictive. It became harder to focus on the factual, reconnaissance tasks required of her at The Institute though.

In her own experiments, she gained sufficient altitude to look down upon a whole country and marvel at its landscape: the mountains that looked like textured bumps, crisp outlines of the coast, and clusters of lights where that country sat cloaked in darkness. She discovered she could experience real time too, as the further west she journeyed, she found daylight. However, she also managed a whole circuit of the Earth almost instantaneously, if she pushed herself. Was time distorted, or did she travel as a body of light, a cosmic ray?

Tahra’s twentieth birthday arrived and for some reason, The Institute felt like a ghost town. Had Max done it on purpose, or had he simply given her birthday no thought at all? He remained elusive, which aggrieved her more, although out of sight also equalled out of mind. Tahra began to give more thought to the experiments with Paul.

On thinking of Paul, she realised he’d given her a contact number, in case she experienced a problem. She contemplated ringing him due to her loneliness, as there was nothing worse than being on your lonesome when you should be celebrating. Would he mind? Did he regard her as merely a test subject? Or did he genuinely enjoy her company?

Only one way to find out.

The phone rang several times and just as she admitted defeat, Paul answered. Fortunately, Eleanor hadn’t picked up the phone.

“Tahra?” he said. “Well, this is a surprise. How are you?”