drink or two," he whispered, "and you'll get one of 'em to admit that every once in awhile they've caught a glimpse of a tiny swirl of smoke rising from the head of one of their patients at the moment of death."
"But I did die, I saw my body, the police said I was dead."
"Nope. Uh-uh. Death is when the cord is severed; fact of your talking to me right now means your cord's just fine."
"OK, full stop. Define cord please?"
"
Astral
cord. Ties you to source. Comes down and condenses into the ladder."
Jess spun her hand as if reeling in a fish, but thought maybe she was the one being reeled in. "Okay...and ladder now?"
"
Jacobs
Ladder. Spinal cord. Your crown chakra — your
brain,
" he said with mild disgust, "is simply an exit point for your cord, it actually goes all the way up into the ether. Honey you got a lot to learn!" he remarked with a hearty laugh, and went back to his chopping, stranding her.
Overwhelmed, Jess silently returned to her work as well. When they were both done, Terry once again broke the silence.
"Let's take a walk down to the chamber."
~ 17 ~
A s the gravel crunched beneath their feet, Jess asked him about the man on the porch.
"Helen. Sure. He's our handyman, been with us going on twenty years now."
"
Helen?
"
"Well, Len for short. If you feel the need to satisfy your gender circuit, that is," he said curtly.
"Whatever. But he is a little odd, though. He mentioned not to be afraid of the screaming 'squatches' at night?"
"Now, durnit," Terry said, becoming visibly angry. "I've told him about that stuff before." Then, softening his tone: "He shouldn't have said that to you, I'm sorry about that."
In addition to the amusement at having this Zen hippie get his mellow harshed, Jess was intrigued as well — why would he be so apologetic about a weird joke? Not really wanting to know, she forged ahead anyway.
"So,
is
there screaming at night I should be concerned about? And if so, then...
what the hell?
"
A sheepish look crept over Terry's face. "Well they hardly ever wake anyone up, and we usually just say it's bobcats if they do."
"So...then...what are they now?"
"Well it's the squatches, like he said. But we try not to talk about it to the guests, takes away from the focus on their experience here, we've discovered."
"I'm going out on a limb here and assuming you mean Sasquatches, like Bigfoot?"
"Ayup."
"You've got to be kidding me," she muttered, mostly to herself. She had tried to convince herself to keep an open mind through all of this, but now with
Bigfoot
on the table, her faith in this place — and her entire journey — was shaken again. By now they were getting closer to the dome, so she didn't push it, and he didn't continue, which was just as well to her.
"Now this is the Chamber, where the fun happens," Terry presented, with an immaculate Price-is-Right-model hand gesture.
In front of the large yellow dome looming above them stood a boxcar-sized addition constructed of grey cinderblock, with no windows and only a single door. A red lightbulb, currently unlit, hung upside-down in the doorway.
"Why yellow?" Jess asked, referring to the dome.
"Ha! Well, it was pretty funky a ways back, all covered with rainbows and galaxies and some such, we repainted it yellow in the late 80's when the original paint started to peel. Simpler, but still something positive and uplifting. Allow me," he said, holding the door for her.
The addition was a small but long room, and a desk with several small Sony monitors and a large microphone took up most of one side, giving it the appearance of a T.V. studio. Terry led her through a second inner door, which let out a
whoosh
upon opening.
Inside, the enormous main chamber was bathed in a bright, sourceless, pink-hued glow. Arrayed in a semicircle were six tiny wooden houses the size of backyard tool sheds. Bundles of wires emanated from each one and snaked their way around the perimeter, leading back towards the control room. The small
"But I did die, I saw my body, the police said I was dead."
"Nope. Uh-uh. Death is when the cord is severed; fact of your talking to me right now means your cord's just fine."
"OK, full stop. Define cord please?"
"
Astral
cord. Ties you to source. Comes down and condenses into the ladder."
Jess spun her hand as if reeling in a fish, but thought maybe she was the one being reeled in. "Okay...and ladder now?"
"
Jacobs
Ladder. Spinal cord. Your crown chakra — your
brain,
" he said with mild disgust, "is simply an exit point for your cord, it actually goes all the way up into the ether. Honey you got a lot to learn!" he remarked with a hearty laugh, and went back to his chopping, stranding her.
Overwhelmed, Jess silently returned to her work as well. When they were both done, Terry once again broke the silence.
"Let's take a walk down to the chamber."
~ 17 ~
A s the gravel crunched beneath their feet, Jess asked him about the man on the porch.
"Helen. Sure. He's our handyman, been with us going on twenty years now."
"
Helen?
"
"Well, Len for short. If you feel the need to satisfy your gender circuit, that is," he said curtly.
"Whatever. But he is a little odd, though. He mentioned not to be afraid of the screaming 'squatches' at night?"
"Now, durnit," Terry said, becoming visibly angry. "I've told him about that stuff before." Then, softening his tone: "He shouldn't have said that to you, I'm sorry about that."
In addition to the amusement at having this Zen hippie get his mellow harshed, Jess was intrigued as well — why would he be so apologetic about a weird joke? Not really wanting to know, she forged ahead anyway.
"So,
is
there screaming at night I should be concerned about? And if so, then...
what the hell?
"
A sheepish look crept over Terry's face. "Well they hardly ever wake anyone up, and we usually just say it's bobcats if they do."
"So...then...what are they now?"
"Well it's the squatches, like he said. But we try not to talk about it to the guests, takes away from the focus on their experience here, we've discovered."
"I'm going out on a limb here and assuming you mean Sasquatches, like Bigfoot?"
"Ayup."
"You've got to be kidding me," she muttered, mostly to herself. She had tried to convince herself to keep an open mind through all of this, but now with
Bigfoot
on the table, her faith in this place — and her entire journey — was shaken again. By now they were getting closer to the dome, so she didn't push it, and he didn't continue, which was just as well to her.
"Now this is the Chamber, where the fun happens," Terry presented, with an immaculate Price-is-Right-model hand gesture.
In front of the large yellow dome looming above them stood a boxcar-sized addition constructed of grey cinderblock, with no windows and only a single door. A red lightbulb, currently unlit, hung upside-down in the doorway.
"Why yellow?" Jess asked, referring to the dome.
"Ha! Well, it was pretty funky a ways back, all covered with rainbows and galaxies and some such, we repainted it yellow in the late 80's when the original paint started to peel. Simpler, but still something positive and uplifting. Allow me," he said, holding the door for her.
The addition was a small but long room, and a desk with several small Sony monitors and a large microphone took up most of one side, giving it the appearance of a T.V. studio. Terry led her through a second inner door, which let out a
whoosh
upon opening.
Inside, the enormous main chamber was bathed in a bright, sourceless, pink-hued glow. Arrayed in a semicircle were six tiny wooden houses the size of backyard tool sheds. Bundles of wires emanated from each one and snaked their way around the perimeter, leading back towards the control room. The small
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