“So tell me, do jinn exist, or are they just
folklore?”
All six of her students laughed. They were sitting on the
grass beneath a tall elm, not far from the old Gothic-style chapel. It was
their last preceptorial of the spring term. Professor Goddard got to her feet
and circled the students as she talked. A light breeze blew her sandy hair over
her face; she swept it back and faced the six.
“We’ve studied the jinn legends of
four Muslim countries. You know by now that many of the people in these
countries regard the jinn as a living species, as intelligent beings that share
the earth with man. They believe the jinn were created by God, as man was, that
they have free will, that some follow the path of righteousness and others
stray, and become demons. So, again, tell me, do jinn exist?”
“Is this a trick question?”
Once more, laughter. Emily looked at
the earnest youth sitting closest to the tree. Alan Badillo’s arms were wrapped
around his knees. He was smiling.
“No, Alan, it’s not.”
“Well, then I’d say they don’t
exist. They’re mythological.”
“Are all myths false?”
“Well…”
“Who’s heard of David Bohm?”
Silence.
Emily pressed on. “I know most of
you are liberal arts majors, but some of you must have studied physics.”
“Oh, I remember,” said Justin Walsh.
He was a reedy young man with rimless eyeglasses and a shock of wheat-blond
hair. “He was one of Einstein’s friends. Back when Einstein was here, at the
Institute of Advanced Studies.”
“Right,” Emily said. “Bohm was one
of our best theoretical scientists. He and Einstein would sit for hours at the
Colonial Café, drinking strong coffee and exploring the boundaries of
knowledge. He never won the Nobel Prize, but many say he deserved it. Bohm
developed the theory of the implicate order. He believed that we live in a
universe of many spatial dimensions – all but three of which are hidden from
us, or from our perspective, rolled up and ‘implicate.’ ”
Emily sat down in front of her students, her long legs
folded beneath her, her hands on her knees, her eyes wide. “According to the theory of the implicate
order – though I admit Bohm never spoke of this specific possibility – jinn and
other spiritlike beings could exist in the physical universe, but primarily in
dimensions that are hidden from our senses. They could have the ability to
enter and leave our three spatial dimensions at will. They could be real.”
“Oh, that’s bull, Dr. Goddard, if you’ll excuse my
French.”
Emily laughed. “You may be right! But additional
dimensions do exist. Physicists insist on it. Otherwise, the mathematics of
quantum theory doesn’t work. Those extra dimensions are hidden from our senses,
and it’s very possible that something exists in them. Beyond that, the
physicists and cosmologists are looking into the possibility that alternate
universes exist. Parallel universes.
Bubble universes. Worlds where duplicates of you and me may exist, not to
mention entirely different lifeforms.”
Lying
on the bed in my Washington hotel room, hours after my briefing at the Old
Executive Office Building, I relived that spring preceptorial with unusual
vividness. The session under the elm had been prompted by Max’s
multidimensional speculations. Now it finally seemed relevant.
I
jumped to my feet and scooted over to the mini-bar. I pulled out the fixings
for a double rum and Coke. I really needed a drink. I was confused, and scared
shitless.
As
I sat on the bed and sipped my Cuba Libre, I went over the briefing again.
Pollack had proceeded to explain the facts of life to me, and in the course of
his explanation, had sent my smart-alec persona running for cover.
Yes,
he said, there were UFOs and aliens.
They were real. (Great…) But they weren’t from a distant galaxy; they lived
among us. They were hiding in the basement, for God’s sake! And it looked like
the federal government was on the verge of busting their cover.
“This
is where you come in, Dr. Goddard.”
That
classic line gave me the chills. I downed the rest of my drink and laid down on
the bed. The ceiling, with its swirling white stipples, looked far more
attractive than what seemed to lie ahead for me. I studied the swirls, making
myself dizzy in the process. No way I’m getting involved in this bullshit. No
way in hell.
I
squirmed on the bed and thought, what I wouldn’t give for a nice, hot, zipless
fuck right now. No strings, no regrets. Just something to take my mind off this
lunacy….
Then
I sat up straight and shook my head wildly. Look at yourself, Emily, just look
at you!
I
jumped off the bed and began pacing. Jinn hunting in Arabia? Unidentified
Flying Objects???? What a crock. My professional reputation – meager though it
is – will be shot. My neighbors will give me strange looks. And Max? He’ll call
me when he finds out, I just know it. And he’ll laugh. Oh, he’ll laugh!… God, I
hate that obnoxious bark of his…
I
wrapped my arms around myself as I paced, and thought how much I’d hated Max when
we broke up, and how much I’d loved him at the beginning. Maybe it was a
mistake to leave him. Maybe we could work things out. Oh, how I detest these
emotions, they’re so … multidimensional!
It
suddenly occurred to me that I really needed Max now. Not so much as a lover –
though that might not be a bad idea – but as a kindred soul and a thinker. Max
would help me figure this whole thing out. He was a skeptic about the
paranormal, but he was open to new ideas. Max would know what to do…
The
phone rang. Distracted, I picked it up.
“Yes?”
“Dr.
Goddard? It’s Frank Devereaux.”
“Oh.
Hi.” I picked up my drink and finished off the dregs. “What’s up?”
“I
was wondering if I could fill you in on some of the details. We’ll be working
together on this.”
One
surprise after another.
“Where
are you, Frank?”
“Downstairs,
in the café. There's someone I want you to meet.”
“Okay.
Give me a minute, and I’ll be down. But Frank –”
“Yes?”
“The
bar. Meet me in the bar.”
We
were sitting across from each other in an expansive brown booth. Next to Frank
was an older man, about fifty, with graying hair, mustache and an impish
expression, as if he had just pulled a prank and no one knew about it yet.
Frank made the introductions.
“Dr.
Goddard, this is Dr. William Semple, professor of psychiatry at Columbia
University. You may have heard of him. He's an expert in alien encounters.”
“As
in close encounters?” I asked.
Dr.
Semple smiled. “You bet. Call me Bill.”
Frank
tried to head off my skepticism. “Dr. Semple – Bill – began studying alien
encounters and abductions as a possible psychological disorder. But he found
there was more to it than that – right, Doctor?”
“Well,
yes. I was still finding psychological problems, but many of these seemed to be
caused by real phenomena. Something was happening to these people. It was not
just their imaginations run amok. Most of those who claim abductions or
encounters are just normal people, not wingnuts or fringe types.”
“Wingnuts
– is that a clinical term?” I asked.
The
good doctor grinned. “I think you know what I mean.”
Our
drinks arrived. A second Cuba Libre for me, a light beer for Frank and a
Guinness for Dr. Semple.
“Bill
will be joining us on our trip.”
Ah,
the trip! Now we're getting to it. I knew I would be heading back to Arabia,
but had no idea where.
For
the first time I got a chance to study Frank's eyes, which were greenish gray
and rather earnest. He reached in his coat pocket and pulled out a snapshot. I
had this silly feeling that he was going to show me a picture of his
significant other.
“Have
you ever seen this before?” he asked.
It
was one of the most bizarre images I’d ever seen. Something – someone? – caught
off-guard, photographed in what looked like a murky cave. A grayish creature,
with spidery limbs, a gaunt torso and a largish head, with pointed ears and
piercing eyes. The photographer had caught the creature head-on, as it clung to
the rocks, and the tell-tale red-eye from the flash gave the subject a devilish
look. It appeared to be nude, but there was no sign of sexual identity.
Slightly feminine, but…? And the feet – how strange … the toes appeared to curl
up, like harem slippers. If it hadn't been for the fiery eyes and the fact that
it was poised to run, I'd have thought I was looking a desiccated human body,
all the fluids sucked out of it by natural mummification, someone murdered
perhaps and abandoned in a cave.
“What
the hell is this?” I asked. I examined the photo carefully. Your normal
snapshot, say three by five, with a date burned in the lower right corner:
04-05-01.
“Take
a guess,” Devereaux said.
“Oh,
right! It’s a jinni!” I said with appropriate sarcasm. “How could I have missed
that?”
He
smiled and took the photo from me, studying it briefly before laying it on the
table in front of him. Dr. Semple didn't seem very curious. It clear he had
already studied the photo.
“It
was allegedly taken in a cave in southwestern Saudi Arabia. For the past year,
the Saudi authorities have been searching for the photographer – and the cave.
So far without success. They brought the photo to us about a month ago. They
want us to identify it.”
“Lucky
you.” I took a swallow of my drink. I looked again at the photo, with its
so-called jinni. The eyes were creepy as hell…
“Actually,
lucky you.”
I
looked up. “What do you mean?”
“I
mean, it’s your baby now. Bill and I will assist, but you are in charge. We’d
like you to track down the photographer and the location.”
I
laughed in my drink. “You need a private eye.”
“We
have one. A Saudi investigator. We’d like you to work with him. He'll take you
to the cave where we think the photo was taken. His name is Mubarak Awda. He
has good instincts, and – ”
“And?”
“
– he knows Najran.”
Najran
– a remote city, in southwestern Arabia, near the Yemen border. In the
foothills of the Asir mountain ranges. Right on the edge of the desert, last
stop before the sands of the Empty Quarter. It was a Christian stronghold
before Islam swept through the area in the seventh century. Very few people
knew about the time I’d spent in Najran. But apparently Frank did. Obviously,
the Feds had a good dossier on me.
I
looked at Devereaux. “Are you sure this photo was taken in that area?”
“It’s
our best guess.”
“Well,
I’ll be damned.”
Dr.
Semple looked at me intently. “I know all this must sound bizarre to you,” he
said, “but it's truly on the level. We have made a breakthrough in
understanding, and are on the verge of resolving this UFO thing once and for
all. Yes, there are UFOs and alien abductions. No, the aliens do not come from
outer space. They have always lived on our planet, but they've been in hiding.
We are about the shine the glaring light of truth on their activities.”
Bill
seemed quite driven on this subject. Had a bunch of loonies taken over our
government? Or, had there really been, as he said, a “breakthrough”? I didn't
seem to have much choice in the matter. So I sipped my drink and nodded. Let's
see where this takes us....
(Next)
(Beginning)
