Ascension: Invocation (5 page)

"I'm in Muscle Shoals."

"Got a question for my special guest?"

"More of a comment, really."

"All right. Go ahead, J.D."

"Dude, cut this out. I just want to hear some tunes, you know? If I wanted talk radio, I'd listen to talk radio. Why don't you just knock it off and go back to playing Warcraft with your homo friends?"              

"Okay. Thanks, J.D. So, why don't you just go back to gaying off?" The voice didn't respond. "It's a valid question, sir." Still no answer. "All right. Fine. We'll just assume that you're busy gaying off right now and take the next caller. Hey, The Point, who's on the line?"

"This is Chrissy."

"Chrissy, what'cha got?"

"If you're from outer space, like, where's your spaceship?"

"Ahhh. Good question, Chrissy. So, let's get an answer for the big money. Sir, where did you park?"

A female voice answered the question. "Interstellar travel is only now being developed on your plane. In its most remedial form, this travel would, in fact, require the use of an additional vessel. On our plane, however, these vessels are not required. You are most fortunate as your evolution, which is nigh, will propel your world beyond such vessels. In time, you will understand this. For the moment, your understanding of space, even in your most elaborate concepts, is quite finite, which is incorrect."

"Nice," said Graham. "Your Mom sounds hot. Chrissy, did that answer your question? A spaceship is not required, and you don't know squat about space."

"Yeah, I guess. Hey, can I request a song?"

"Sure, kid, what do you want to hear?"

"Play anything by 311."

"Okay. I hope to get to it eventually. Next caller. The Point, who's this?"

"It's David."

"David, what's up?"

"Okay. So, dude just said that he's beyond using a space ship. So, I guess he wouldn't mind sharing with us exactly how we can travel at light speed?"

"Yeah, that's a good point, David. If this is such an arcane technology in your world, lawbreaker, why not just tell us how to build the star ship Enterprise so that we can come visit you? But, be warned, when I get there, I'm gonna totally mess up your radio show."

The familiar male voice responded. "Travel at light speed is not possible. Your theory of relativity is correct."

"Well, thank you," said Graham. "Score one for Einstein!"

"Your universal law dictates that if one were to travel at light speed, the mass of your traveling vessel would increase exponentially over time. It would cease to exist prior to reaching your destination. This is not practical."

"I would agree. Ceasing to exist prior to arrival would take all of the fun out of traveling."

"Interstellar travel is best facilitated by bending space. This is what you may refer to as warp speed."

"Okay. So, how do we do that?"

"This is irrelevant. You are not prepared to utilize this information but you have asked the correct question."

"Great. Do I win a prize? Spill it. What's the harm in passing it along? You said we're evolving. Give it up, man."

"It is predetermined. Consider this:

"Okay. That meant nothing to me. Next caller. Who's up?"

"Hi, it's Mateo."

"Why do I think you're foreign, Mateo? What is it? Your accent? Your name?"

"Probably both."

"Go ahead, man."

"¿Cuál es el significado de la vida?"

The male voice responded in Spanish. "Esto es complejo. El significado de tu vida es diferente del significado de la vida de otro. Cada alma sirve a sus propios fines, por el bien del universo entero. Usted ahora existen para servir a su padre que está enfermo. Su alma es muy necesaria y debe transición bien. Tu alma está en esta tierra sólo para este fin. Sin embargo, su alma ha tenido tareas mucho mayor antes de esto y han contribuido en gran medida al mundo entero. Usted debe estar orgulloso y que esperamos con interés sus contribuciones en el futuro. Por favor, dile a tu padre que tanto anticipar su regreso."

"I have no idea what he said, Mateo. I don't speak Mexican. Satisfactory?"

There was a pause, a sigh and finally "Is this a joke?"

Graham cringed. He had never uttered a racial slur in his career. Was that a slur? "I'm sorry; I didn't mean any offense...”

"My Dad is in the hospital dying of cancer right now."

"Okay. I'm sorry to hea-”

"How did you know that?"

The question was directed to Graham. "Mateo, I didn't understand anything that was just said. I don't speak Spanish."

"I'm not mad. I just don't know how you knew that."

"Everyone, I'd just like to make it clear that this is not some sort of joke. I have no control over the other voice you're hearing. This is a pirate broadcast that is bleeding in to our frequency. I'm not involved. Mateo, maybe you know this guy?"

"I doubt it. I don't know anyone who could pull that off."

"I'm sorry, man, that's my best guess. I'm sorry if he said something cruel during this difficult time."

"It wasn't cruel. Kinda nice, actually. Just weird."

Thanks to the Internet, the world now moved at warp speed, so it was fitting then that the short equation on Graham's show landed in Charles Trumboldt's email box within a few hours. He had been taking a day off and using it quite productively, he thought. He was in line at a Boston deli, stocking up on Pecorino Romano and bread when he received an email with the subject line "WTF" on his phone. It was from a colleague at Cal Tech and simply read "Have you seen this?" and attached the equation. Charles read it and quickly stepped out of line.

He called the sender who explained that a student of his had heard this on a radio program a few hours prior; something to do with Alabama. His first thought was that this theory must have originated at NASA in Huntsville, Alabama, but had not yet been published. A call to a few friends there assured him that they knew nothing of the warp equation. It was stunning. Whoever had come up with this had just made a tremendous scientific leap. Surely, the future of space travel didn't originate with a radio disc jockey. Where did he get this?

Charles made a few more calls, surfed the net, located the radio station in question and placed a call. He got Mike on the phone. "Yeah, I just got off the phone with the NASA boys," Mike explained. "Like I told them, we don't know where this guy's at, who he is, nothin'. All we know is that he's impeding our broadcast."

Mike explained the entire situation to Charles who now became even more intrigued. After a call to his chair at Harvard, Charles was on the next flight to Alabama. He had arranged a meeting with Mike and Graham for lunch the following day. By then, the world's scientific community was buzzing about the equation. Certainly, astrophysicists like Charles were thrilled and intensely curious about the author.

During lunch, Graham explained how the interference began and that the station's engineer initially suspected that the pirate broadcaster had discovered their MARTI frequency, which was utilized for remote broadcasts, and had been tapping in to this to gain access. They had confirmed, however, that this was not the case. Most perplexing was how the pirate could take over the station at will without Graham or any other DJ raising the volume on any particular channel on the mixing board. For whatever reason, he only appeared interested in speaking with Graham.

"Here's the thing," Charles said. "This equation that he gave you. Well, it's scientifically sound. This is plausible."

"I suppose this guy could be some kind of genius," Graham offered.

"He would practically have to be."

"He's figured out a way to hijack the station and hide in plain sight," Mike said. "He's eluding the feds. I'd say he ain't no dummy."

"Would you mind if I tried talking to him this afternoon?" Charles asked Graham.

"Feel free. Just be at the station by three and we'll do it."

Charles returned to his hotel while Mike and Graham went back to business as usual. Mike went on sales calls while Graham went to his office to schedule music for the next day. His trance at the computer was interrupted by a boisterous voice in the open doorway.

"Fucking brilliant, Graham!" It was Chris, one half of the Top 40 night show on the station down the hall. "I knew you were holding out, but this is above and beyond. Literally! Now you've got NASA investigating the show. Where'd you find the scientist? Dude, sweet!"

Chris was a young kid, early twenties and this gig with Mike was only his second stop in the business. He was good. Graham thought he had a lot of potential. He had told Mike that he thought he was a nice choice for the job when he was reviewing air checks and resumes almost a year ago. Graham didn't anticipate that Chris would come complete with an encyclopedic knowledge of his entire career. To be fair, it wasn't just Graham's career that Chris knew by heart. It was practically every jock that Graham had ever known and many more that he had only heard of. He was a rare find: a young kid that truly loved radio. Still, the initial awe that Chris attributed to being in the same room with Graham eventually seemed to turn to disappointment. It appeared to Chris that Graham was a shadow of his former self. To a degree this was true, but what Chris couldn't comprehend was that Graham was content with his new found, quiet life.

"I'm not doing anything, Chris," Graham protested. "It's a pirate bleeding in to the station."              

"Whatever, dude. I get it."

"I'm serious. This isn't a stunt."

"Strange that it has classic Graham Barry written all over it," Chris smiled. "It's cool, man. I'll keep it under wraps. I'll play along just like Mike."

"Whatever, man." Graham noticed new ink on Chris's arm. "Is that a new tat?"

"Yeah, check it out." Graham took a closer look. It was a vintage microphone with a snake circling it. "I get color in a few weeks if it heals right."

"It's nice," Graham noticed a peculiar odor. "What's that smell?"

"Prep-H," Chris produced a tube from his pocket. Graham must have appeared confused. "You don't have any tats?"

"No. I never did get any."

"The Preparation-H is to keep the swelling down."

"Oh. That's unfortunate."

"Yeah, buying it sucked hardcore. I think I'm going to do a phone bit about it tonight. 'Most embarrassing thing you've ever had to buy'."

"That's a good idea. You can do a prank with that too. Call the pharmacy; explain that you've lost the box and instructions. Ask the clerk to read the directions to you over the phone. Then, begin to apply it as he instructs you. Sound effects and all."

"Oh! That's great! You're on fire, G!"

"It's an old bit. Mad Max did it years ago. I think I heard it on an old air check of his."

"Sweet! I'm totally stealing that. Whatever happened to Max?"

"Last I heard he was in Myrtle Beach."

"Which cluster?"

"NewMedia, I think."

"Is that the old Four Stables?"

"Think so."

"A buddy of mine was there before the buy-out by Helix."

"Before or after the Quad merger?"

"Right after."

"Shit."

"Yeah. He said it was a freakin' bloodbath."



At three, Charles arrived as promised and Graham got him comfortable in the studio. He explained that the voice typically interrupted him during his first break. The conversations might last for a few minutes or they could go on for as long as an hour. Graham noted that he appeared to be in control of how long the talks lasted. The pirate would continue chatting until Graham deemed the conversation over, at which point, it would respect his wishes and go away for the remainder of his show. Charles sat across the console from Graham and observed as he began his broadcast. A song faded, and Graham opened his mic.

"105.5, The Point with the Red Hot Chili Peppers. It's Graham, North Alabama, good afternoon. It's seventy eight degrees with a high...”

"Good afternoon, Graham."

Charles held his headphones close to his ears and kept an eye on Graham. He didn't see him press any buttons or do anything that would seem to cue the new voice.