Seven Point Eight (5 page)

***

The Daimler pulled up at Max Richardson’s research facility on a fine day at the end of August 1950.
 
Paul stared out of the window at a stately manor house, as the tyres of the Daimler crunched on the gravel. Trees surrounded the building, which enhanced its aura of privacy and suggested a closed shop. Max met him at the imposing front door and his personal driver, John Eames, took Paul’s suitcases.

The formidable hallway presented a grand staircase, high ceilings, and oak panelling, with illustrious reds and crimsons adorning the walls. Extravagant statues and paintings posed artistically.

“Welcome to The Establishment, Paul,” Max said, with warmth and pride, “Please, let me show you around.”

John disappeared with the suitcases while Max led the way forward. Downstairs to the left, Paul saw a generous sitting room, furnished in green leather sofas and decorated with William Morris wallpaper. It adjoined to a dining area, with one large oak table and chairs, followed by a kitchen with free standing oak units.

“This is a communal living area for research seniors and fellows, plus any volunteers, read lab rats, who may be participating in any of our studies. Feel free to make yourself at home, there’s a radio and a phonograph in the corner of the sitting room. I employ a cook, so everyone based here can sit and enjoy an evening meal together.”

Paul reflected briefly how strange it would be living here. In effect, he’d be AWOL from the scientific community for a while, so this opportunity could potentially alienate him from that circle, or it could propel him towards the ultimate accolade.

They ascended the stairs and on the left hand side, he saw a number of rooms for staff and guests, with a communal bathroom. On the right hand side, he observed three laboratories and a storeroom.

“Any equipment you don’t find in the labs will be located in the storeroom. Specific items can be custom built. If you wish to call upon the services of our supplier, I will give you their telephone number.”

Max showed him his room, which Paul found pleasantly spacious and ostentatious. It had a four poster Victorian bed, and oil paintings of former residents adorned the walls. A red patterned rug covered oak floorboards and an armchair faced the black, cast iron fireplace. Paul noted the desk in the corner.

“This is the finest room,” Max said, “suitable for the finest of my staff.”

Paul felt honoured.

They descended the stairs and Max paused in the hallway. Paul observed a number of offices set back from the hall, complete with filing cabinets, oak desks, leather armchairs, and doors with individual nameplates. One had
Dr. Paul Eldridge
engraved on it. It was a touching gesture.

Max led Paul into his new office, where they sat in leather armchairs, appraising each other across the solid oak desk. The walls had dark blue wallpaper, and a huge sash window overlooked the garden, which in itself was worthy of a tour. Max lit a cigar and offered one to Paul, who accepted.

“Well, it’s not the research facility I envisioned,” Paul said, finally.

Max shrugged nonchalantly. “It’s one of many.”

He blew out cigar smoke with a cool demeanour, psychologically masticating the potential that lay ahead.

“Something tells me you’re going to be the most significant person ever to work at The Establishment.”

Paul began to shrug off his initial reservations. Maybe he’d been trying to find ulterior motives where there were none, no sense in looking a gift horse in the mouth, as the cliché went. He’d handed in his resignation, expressed a desire for more out of life, taken a leap of faith and landed on his feet.

“Here’s to the study of the soul,” Max said, leaning back in his chair.

“When do we start?” Paul said, with a satisfied smile.

***

I had everything in the palm of my hand, yet the world suddenly became more uncertain. Would my findings explode faith in one fell swoop, or vindicate what millions of people around the world believed? Could I prove the existence of the soul? I’d sought a challenge in my life so vociferously and it had found me, changing the entire impetus of my life, so why did I feel so prickly?

I spent the first week ambling, too much time wasted at my desk, pondering the incredible resources I had at the tip of my fingers. Occasionally, I picked up a photograph of Madeleine, wondering if she watched over me from some form of alternative quantum state. I contemplated contacting my family, but what would I say? This wasn’t the type of research you openly discussed with members of the general public.

Between my first arrival and the final presentation of my findings, two and a half years elapsed. My own personal perception of the world remained static in the mean time, while the Korean War played out. As a spark of inspiration ignited me, namely the presence of Max Richardson with a face of expectation, UN forces crossed the 38
^th
parallel into
North Korea
. As I drafted my proposal, forces captured the capital. By the time truce talks began in the summer of 1951, I’d built and tested the necessary equipment for my research.

Music filtered through. I listened to Maria Callas on the radio, Gene Kelly warbling ‘Singing in the Rain’, and I acquired a taste for Billie Holiday as I began testing the first volunteers. Movie stars flared into recognition, and burned brightly in my absence from the world. I missed a classic piece of early science fiction called ‘The Day the Earth Stood Still’, but none of that mattered while I chased and fulfilled my dream to completion.

Because I found taking measurements monotonous, I trained a research assistant to carry out the nitty-gritty, while I reclaimed the tingle of anticipation in scientific discovery. Before long, I found myself typing out an extensive and exhausting report. Now I just had to present it to Max.

***

On the 2
^nd
of April 1953, some six weeks after his 32
^nd
birthday, Paul attended the board meeting for The Establishment’s committee, a conglomerate of funding bodies, directors, and executives with vested interests in the findings. The dining room became a makeshift board room, and Max locked the whole Establishment down to exclude any irrelevant members of staff. Other than Max, ten people comprising nine men and just one woman sat stiffly at the table, shuffling papers. Paul didn’t recognise any of them, and they represented a faceless but powerful behind the scenes body. Everyone wore suits, but nothing to distinguish who they were, or their motives for attending this presentation.

Max chaired the committee, and gestured for Paul to stand at the foot of the table
.

“We’d like to thank you for your persistence in this endeavour, your contribution is greatly valued by the committee. I see you have brought along your thesis. Could you enlighten us with an executive summary?”

Paul felt slightly intimidated by the humourless, staring people but proceeded. “We have tested and measured seven hundred people over a period of two years, ordinary people from many walks of life. For each person, I collated measurements of an electromagnetic phenomenon and in all cases, I found the presence of a weak field. The precise readings are contained in this thesis.”

Paul gestured to a thick wad of paper, the contents of which he’d laboriously typed.

 
“The human electromagnetic field is generally a weak one, extending on average three to four inches from the skin, but in twenty five percent of the sample, I found evidence of a much stronger field, giving higher readings and extending some six to ten inches from the skin.”

Some of the committee discussed the findings inaudibly amongst themselves, while Max simply smiled to himself.

Paul continued. “At present I’m unable to ascertain the origin of the human electromagnetic field, or whether indeed it is the soul. I can confirm, at least, the existence of a field that surrounds the body. The logical assumption would be that it emanates from the brain or body tissues but to draw a definitive conclusion, I’d need to study living tissue. I believe such a study would be unethical.”

Max smiled wryly at the last comment. He reached across the table and picked up Paul’s thesis, flicked through it and set it down.

Paul continued, giving details of his methodology, results and inconclusive summary, relieved most of the committee could follow his scientific jargon. They nodded appreciatively at the right moments, and Paul gained confidence as the presentation progressed.

“I’m very impressed with your findings, and your dedication to The Establishment,” Max congratulated. “We’ll discuss the thesis, and indicate how we’d like to move forward.”

Paul left his thesis with the committee, curious about its destination. Would it be published? Did it compare to Watson and Crick’s recent discovery of DNA’s structure? Well, hardly, but Paul felt satisfied with his accomplishment. He sat in his office, looking out at the garden, aware of the committee chattering in the dining room not too far away. Putting any ethical concerns to the back of his mind, he decided not to complain as he enjoyed working at The Establishment. During the past few years, he’d earned an excellent salary and while living here, he could take country walks, ride a horse, or go fishing. His life lacked romance, but research consumed his time and unlike his peers, finding a wife was not cause for concern. He had indeed landed on his feet.

Meanwhile, the committee discussed Paul’s research over a pot of coffee and some digestive biscuits.

“I think he’s ready for the next stage,” Max concluded.

A shrewd looking man in an expensive suit leaned forward and responded, revealing an American accent.

“I hope your judgment is correct. We need Dr. Eldridge as an ally in our endeavours, particularly in this new era of cutting edge research.”

“He has demonstrated his loyalty and ambition, plus his extraordinary aptitude for pushing the boundaries of discovery. We’ll commence with testing the effects of electromagnetic fields on the mind and body. It’s just a natural progression of the current research, so he won’t question it.”

Another American interjected, a man with dark hair swept away from his face.

“You certainly have a gift for locating extraordinary talent, Max.”

A smile flickered across Max’s face briefly, although it didn’t communicate pride.

“All because of the extraordinary talent that I already have in my possession.”

Rising from the table, Max concluded the meeting and left the room, seeking out Paul. He knocked on his office door before entering, and found Paul appreciating the garden through the window.

“The committee is highly satisfied with your research, and will be offering some new objectives shortly,” he announced.

Paul acknowledged this with a smile, so Max continued.

“We’re giving you a month off, so that you can take a break…relax. I also have a few surprises for you. The first is that my driver will collect you at 7:30 tonight, as you’re invited to an evening of wine, women, and song at my house. The dress code is formal.”

“Thank you for the invitation. What’s the second surprise?”

“It wouldn’t be much of a surprise if I revealed all my secrets, would it?”

Max left, presumably to prepare for the evening to come. Paul smiled in recognition of Max’s invitation. How could he refuse?

***

The Daimler brought Paul to Max’s secret residence, the home he never spoke about. It met Paul’s expectations in terms of its elegance, this three-bedroom coach house located within the grounds of The Establishment. Ivy swathed the exterior of the house, and it had grand sash windows. To the right of the house, Paul noted an attached garage for Max’s cars, which were currently out of sight. The well tended garden possessed an inordinately pretty symmetry, with shrubs and flowers placed in a design of absolute order.