Seven Point Eight (8 page)

Back in my life of research, I reached a point of consolidation. Despite the fact I’d performed countless experiments on my subjects throughout the last decade, one particular volunteer tripped my fuse on a fateful day in the autumn of 1959.

A young female student had offered herself to the study where I attempted to induce psychic powers through the application of electromagnetic fields. She sat in the chair, surrounded by equipment and for some reason, looked me straight in the eye.

In that moment, I sensed her apprehension, as if she’d not really volunteered for the study at all. Nevertheless, I switched on the field and began to observe, scribbling notes. She kept staring at me, drawing me into her world, sucking me into her experience. I watched as the anxiety progressed into full blown panic. I tasted her fear, felt her heart pound, and my stomach somersaulted with hers.

Ceasing my scribble, I watched as her eyes opened wide, her face contorting into a grimace.

“What is this…a form of torture?” she queried.

The experiment continued, and she began to have a seizure right there in the chair. I snapped into action, coming to her aid but in that moment where I touched her, I looked deep into her eyes and saw sheer terror. She screamed, causing the other technicians to come running.

She changed my life, because she lost hers. I don’t know why she died, but the seizure overwhelmed her and we failed to resuscitate her.

I felt disgusted with myself for weeks. I’d never caused anyone’s death, and it affected me deeply, particularly due to that fleeting emotional connection. From that point onwards, I realised I’d spent the past decade of my life on some sort of fairground ride. Maybe I even jumped aboard the carriage before I met Max. At the start of the ride, I knew it would be exhilarating, possibly even frightening at times. Committing myself to the ride, I closed my eyes then screamed my heart out as I surrendered control to the twists and turns, the climbs and dips. At no point did I consider getting off, or it ever ending. But then, as the carriage drew into the terminus, I wondered what the hell happened and what I’d become.

In this light bulb moment, I became aware my ethics were not my own anymore. Had I passed through a dark era in my life, where I became so entrenched in Max’s circle and research that I began to lose myself? Had living things become commodities in my quest for breaking boundaries? Was I so in love with investigation that I could switch off my conscience? The military applications of my research began to haunt me, and I realised how I’d digressed from my original, philosophical objectives.

Spiritual cravings began to take root and throughout these last weeks, I began to feel like I’d never get to investigate life’s mysteries. However, Max sprang the unexpected on me one day in late 1959. We’d taken our horses out in the woods near the coach house.

“I have another project for you,” he announced. “I’ve noticed your enthusiasm has dwindled and your peers are experienced enough to complete the study. Life must progress, so that we can change and grow, therefore, I’d like you to work at a sister facility called The Institute. It’s in
London
but quite accessible.
 
You’ll like this one, more up your street. You’re going to study some people with extraordinary talents.”

Whether I liked it or not, Max was about to turn my reality upside down again.

3

Key to the Door

Saturday 19
^th
November 1988

The smell of roast chicken filled the kitchen, enhanced by the additional aroma of thyme. Ava glanced over at the array of vegetables sitting obediently in their serving dishes, plus the array of condiments awaiting attention. Everything was behaving itself.

With the radio blasting ‘Sweet Child O’ Mine’ by Guns ‘N’ Roses, she performed a little secret dance while her guests chatted at the table in the next room. She even slipped in a quick mime of the chorus, using a kitchen implement as a mock microphone, but the timer pinged and interrupted.

Ava grabbed the oven gloves and reached down to take the chicken out. As she grasped the roasting tray, a surreal sight greeted her eyes. Wrapped around the succulent chicken, she saw two entwined snakes, writhing and poking their tongues out. Ava suppressed a shriek and dropped the tray on the floor.

God damn these hallucinations!

They were beginning to affect her everyday life now, and caught her at the most inopportune moments…like cooking for her entire family for her 21
^st
birthday meal.

One of her flatmates, Emma, poked her head around the door.

“Everything okay?”

They both looked at the roasting tray on the floor, and figured everything wasn’t actually under control. Emma’s hand shot to her mouth, and Ava rescued it before it looked even sorrier than it already did. Thankfully, the chicken hadn’t launched itself onto the tiles, and no one else witnessed the culinary travesty.

 
“You’re the only person I know who cooks for everyone on
her
birthday,” Emma commented, assisting Ava in transferring the platters to the dining table, which was already laden with cutlery.

The whole family sat around the table, almost arm to arm with the tight squeeze. Ava and Emma set the chicken onto a plate while her father, David Kavanagh, offered to carve. He possessed a natural air of authority, interlaced with good humour and a warm smile, so he joked about his army days as he sliced the chicken.

Everyone began to help themselves to vegetables. Ava’s flame haired sister, Ginny, slapped the wrist of her husband as he reached over her, and he shot her an irritated glance. In her early thirties, she appeared quite athletic, as if she threw javelins for a living or rode horses, a modern Boudicca to her Roman looking partner. They seemed to have a relationship similar to the Iceni and Romans too, but curtailed their altercations for Ava’s benefit.

“That’s a beautiful scarf you’re wearing, Ava,” her mother commented. “It looks really vintage.”

Caroline Kavanagh’s eyes fixated on the red silk scarf around Ava’s neck, which she’d tied loosely.

“I found it recently,” she explained.

She gave Ava a broad smile, exemplifying her once carefree and hedonistic nature, as if she’d been a flower power queen in the sixties.

As they tucked into their meal, her father poured the wine and everyone raised their glasses.

“Happy birthday!”

She tried to shrug it off with modesty, but appreciated their toast. However, her gaze drifted over to the two empty chairs.

“Well, almost the whole family is here,” she said.

After a short while, Ginny decided to make polite conversation with Ava as the men discussed cars and technology.

“So, is there a special man in your life?”

Ava wanted to grit her teeth, as her oldest sister always became obsessed with other people’s relationships. Instead, she forced a polite reply. “No. I split with Michael a few months ago.” The regrets were difficult to hide though, and her voice faltered a little.
        

“Sorry to hear that, you were such a
promising
couple,” she consoled.

“No harm in leading a single life,” her other flatmate, Jason, interjected.

“I thought you two were going to leave for the States after you’ve finished your degree. This is so…abrupt.”

Ava wished the floor would swallow her up as Ginny continued.

“Honestly, men are terrible for cold feet. They never have the courage-.”

Caroline shot Ginny a warning look and she tried to appear nonchalant about being scolded by her mother’s icy stare. Their older brother, Robert, came to the rescue, a mild mannered and dark haired technician in the army who displayed more refined social skills than their big sister.

“When you’ve finished your degree in genetics, what do you intend to do next?”

“Look for a job!” Ava laughed. “But first, I’ve to focus on the last year of study, a dissertation won’t write itself.”

“What’s your dissertation about?”

“Telomeres and their role in the aging process. I think they have a big future.”

“Telomeres?” he queried.

“The bits on the ends of chromosomes,” she answered, realising it hadn’t enlightened him any more.

He nodded appreciatively, accepting that he hadn’t a clue what she was talking about.

Ava’s ears tuned into the discussion between her father and her oldest brother, Jack. He exemplified the classic eighties yuppie, complete with a Filofax, mobile phone as heavy as a house brick, and a monotonous repertoire of conversation topics and jokes about his high-flying lifestyle. Good looking, he fancied himself as a playboy, but unfortunately his obnoxious demeanour acted as a turn off. He showed everyone his pride and joy, complete with chunky antenna, and elaborated on the merits of being able to call someone while walking down the street.

“Of course,” Jack stated, “not everyone will have one in the future, nice to be part of an elite. I mean, why would anyone want to call someone while on the move, unless you were a businessman?”

Ava switched off while Jack began to boast eloquently of his last financial conquest.

Fortunately, if you looked at it that way, the door bell rang and Ava saw this as an opportunity to escape the inane onslaught of finance. However, Robert stood up to answer it, indicating she had every right to sit and enjoy her meal.

As he left the room, she wondered who rang the doorbell. Two people absent…one or both would exceed her expectations.

Robert led a young man into the room. Ava smiled affectionately and he returned the gaze, which he held for longer than would be customary. Most of the room’s occupants recognised him and were pleased to see him. This insanely beautiful youth had quite an androgynous look, with intense brown eyes, ebony hair in a contemporary style, an aquiline nose, and slim build. He wore a black shirt, and jeans with a deliberate frayed tear at the knee plus a studded bracelet typical of the eighties, so he looked vaguely like a rock god in formation. Emma’s eyes lit up, which caused Ava to smile, if only she knew he’d only just turned sixteen. However, he didn’t notice Emma. Instead, he appeared to be fixated on Ava, which didn’t go unnoticed by Caroline, her mother.

“This is Sam, he’s my cousin,” she informed her flatmates, Emma and Jason, who acknowledged him.

Caroline looked concerned. “Is your father not here?”

That was a moot point for Sam, and he shrugged bitterly. “Work comes first.” The words were spoken with a degree of vehemence.

Ava smiled sympathetically at Sam, who tried to hide his feelings and she concealed her own disappointment, for she also wished her uncle could have made it. He’d guided her throughout her life, so it saddened her that he wasn’t here.

Sam took an empty plate and helped himself to the food, then quietly began to eat. Numerous times he glanced over at Ava, who returned his gaze with some fondness. She remembered him as a young boy, one who’d grown up without a mother and suffered the emptiness of a frequently absent father. As much as she adored her uncle, she didn’t agree with the way he’d nurtured Sam, and in many ways, she’d looked out for him throughout his childhood. Caroline had always been there for him, and in his father’s absence he’d stayed with Ava’s family many a time. Therefore, Sam had high regards for Ava and the rest of the clan.

“So,” Robert said, “what are you doing nowadays? Have you finished school yet?”

 
“No, I’m in my final year,” Sam answered.

“Oh, so that must mean you’re ready to take your exams. What are your specialist subjects?”