Conspircaies

'Okay. Fine. Let's just say that's true. How's this…this evil Great Whatever screwing with things now?'

'It can influence certain susceptible individuals—'touched by the Otherness,' as Melanie used to say.'

'Touched is right,' Jack said.

Canfield smiled. 'Interesting, isn't it, that 'touched' has two meanings.'

Jack hadn't thought of that, and thinking about it now was no comfort.

'Keep going.'

'The willing susceptibles give in to the influence and go to work for it—they're the ones behind all the discord and cover-ups.'

'Controlled by the Otherness.'

'Not so much controlled, as simpatico. They're not taking orders, per se, but they feel a certain solidarity with its ethic.'

'Ethic? What ethic?'

'All right, perhaps ethic isn't the best term. How about 'esthetic'? Does that sit better? Whatever the term or the reason, they're quite willing to inject as much chaos and discord as possible into everyday life. The unwilling fight back, but not without paying a price.'

'SESOUP folk, in other words.'

'Yes. They're what we call 'sensitives.' For better or worse, their nervous systems are more attuned to the Otherness. Their minds have to make sense of the external will impinging on them and so they think they're hearing voices, or come up with these wild-sounding theories.'

'Like gray aliens, reptoids, Majestic-12, the New World Order—'

'You're thinking small: from Christianity and its Book of Revelations to the Hebrew Kaballah, to the Bhagavad Gita, they all come from the same place.'

'So in other words, there's no shadow government trying to control our minds.'

Canfield shook his head. 'You're missing my point. I believe there is a shadow government with our worst interests at heart, but it's not controlled by aliens or the UN or Satan, it's run by people under the influence—note I said 'influence,' not 'direction'—of the Otherness. Aliens, devils and the NWO are simply some of the masks worn by that single, nameless chaotic entity…the many faces of a single truth.'

'Melanie's Grand Unification…' Jack said.

'Exactly. But this conference is a unification of sorts too. The members of SESOUP are particularly sensitive to the Otherness, that's why membership is so selective. And now they're all gathered here, packed into a single structure, each one of them a lens of sorts, perceiving the Otherness, and focusing it, distilling it. Surely you've noticed the charged atmosphere in the hotel?'

'Sort of. But focusing it for what purpose?'

'Only time will tell. We must believe now, but soon we shall have proof.'

'Proof?' Jack said. 'Real hard proof? That'd be refreshing.'

'Your scars are a form of proof, wouldn't you say?'

Jack was glad to get back to the subject of his scars. He remembered something Canfield had said.

'You mentioned that you and Melanie 'sensed' the creatures. You 'sensed' they were in New York but you didn't know where they came from.'

'Of course we did. They came from the Otherness.'

'I mean, what country.'

'Country? What is a country but an artificial boundary agreed on by ephemeral governments.'

'And I'll bet you don't know what they were called, either.'

'What's in a name? Just a label attached by some primitive people. All that matters is that the creatures were fashioned ages ago by the Otherness, and they carry the Otherness in them.'

Odd. He seemed to know the big picture, but not the details.

'Carried,' Jack said. 'Past tense. They became fried fish food at the bottom of New York Harbor.'

Canfield nodded. 'Yes. I remember waking from a nightmare about their death agonies. When I read about the ship that had burned in the harbor, I guessed that was what had happened.' He shook his head. 'Such a shame.'

'Shame, hell. Probably the best thing I ever did.'

Canfield stared at him. Jack couldn't read his expression through all that hair. When he spoke his voice was just above a whisper.

'You? You're the one who killed the Otherness creatures?'

Something in Canfield's wide eyes made Jack uneasy.

'Yeah, well, somebody had to do it. They happened to pick on the wrong little girl for their next meal.'

'Then it's no wonder you're here. You are involved…more deeply than you can possibly imagine.'

'Involved in what?'

'In Melanie's Grand Unification Theory. The Otherness creatures are part of it, I'm sure, and therefore so are you.'

'Whoopee,' Jack said. 'And does her theory involve weird contraptions as well?'

'You mean machines? I don't think so. Why?'

'Well, I've got a couple of crates of parts sitting in my room. I don't know why they're there—I don't even know how they got there—but I've got a funny feeling their appearance is somehow connected to Melanie's disappearance.'

'I can't imagine how. You mean, you don't know who sent them or where they're from?'

'Tulsa, I think. North Tulsa.'

Canfield grinned. 'Ever been to Tulsa?'

'No.'

'I have. It's not big enough to have a 'north.''

'Maybe it was something else then. All I know is the plans for assembling this gizmo are printed inside the lid, and I saw 'N. Tulsa' scribbled along an edge.'

'N. Tulsa…' Canfield said softly. 'N. Tul—' Suddenly he straightened in his wheelchair. 'Dear God! It couldn't have been 'Tesla,' could it?'

Jack tried to picture the lid. 'Could have been. It was kind of scrawled and I didn't pay that much attention because—'

Canfield was wheeling toward the door. 'Let's go!'

'Where?'

'Your room. I want to see this myself.'

Jack wasn't crazy about a guest in his room, but if Canfield knew something about those crates…

'Where's Tesla?' Jack said as they took the elevator down one stop.

'Not where—who. I can't believe you've never heard of him.'

'Believe it. Who is Tesla?'

'A long story, not worth telling if I'm wrong.'

Jack followed him to his own room. A disturbing thought struck him as he was unlocking the door.

'How come you know where my room is?'

Canfield smiled. 'After I sensed those scars on you, I made it my business to find out. And I'm sure I'm not alone. Probably half the people here know where you're staying.'

'Why the hell should they care?'

'Because you're an unknown quantity. Some may suspect you're with the CIA, some may think you were sent by MJ-12, or maybe even an agent of the devil.'

'Swell.'

'You're surrounded by people who believe that nothing is as it seems. What did you expect?'

'You've got a point there.'

That does it, he thought. This was like his worst nightmare. First thing in the morning, I'm out of here.

Jack had left the lights on, and allowed Canfield to precede him into the room. The crates lay open on the floor dead ahead, and Canfield rolled directly to them. He picked up one of the lids, scanned its inner surface.

'The other one,' Jack said.