Land of Echoes

4

After outrage at Mason's presumption, Cree's first response was surprise at the woman's appearance. Julieta McCarty was tall, narrow waisted, dressed in snug jeans, cowboy boots, a man's blue work shirt, and a denim jacket with cuffs rolled one turn to reveal silver and turquoise bracelets. She had enviably big black hair that tossed freely in the wind, flashing almond-shaped blue eyes, and a tan augmented by a touch of bronze coloring that suggested Native American or Hispanic blood. Cree's first thought was, stunning. Movie star stunning. Definitely not anyone's idea of a typical high school principal. Too curvaceous, too young-no older than her midtwenties.

Seeing her at close range changed Cree's first impression somewhat. Nearer, her real age was evident in her face: closer to forty than thirty. The skin around her eyes and mouth was etched with a skein of fine creases that told of a life in the dry high-desert air and hard sun. Her eyes held a searching look full of wariness, worry, fatigue, doubt, determination.

It was a look Cree had seen in other people trying to deal with an incomprehensible experience, to live when their every belief and expectation had been called into question. It was also a look she saw far too often in the mirror.

The eyes made a twang in Cree's chest, a feeling of such poignancy that she forgot her anger at Mason. In one glance the connection was made, so real Cree could almost see it, a shimmering golden cord arcing between them and binding them together.

Remaining a pace behind Julieta, Dr. Tsosie was a Native American man in his midforties. He wore khakis, jogging shoes, a blue nylon windbreaker parted to reveal a white shirt and a belt cinched by an ornate silver buckle. A beeper and cell phone clipped on the belt marked him as a physician. The brown eyes that shone from under the brim of his cowboy hat were somber and appraising, and though he maintained an impassive face Cree sensed that the root of his current caution was a protective urge: He was looking out for Julieta, determined to help her through whatever crisis she was enduring.

Meeting them, especially Julieta, had a fated, inevitable feel. As they shook hands, Cree inwardly cursed Mason, hating that he could tell exactly how she'd react. That he'd known her for the soft touch she was, that her immediate and overpowering empathy for Julieta would compel her to take the woman's problems as her own.

Mason made only a halfhearted effort to keep the pleasure off his face. Cree wanted to kick him.

"Thank you for coming, Julieta. Joseph, it's a pleasure to see you again." Mason had conjured his public persona of charm and authority. He pushed back his cuff to glance at his watch and then smiled up at them. "Shall we stay outside and catch the sunset, or would you like to confer over dinner? I took the liberty of making reservations at the High Finance here-their strip sirloin is quite splendid. In either case, I know Lucretia is eager to hear the specifics of your situation."

Julieta McCarty admitted that she was too tense too eat, so they opted against dinner. Instead, Cree rolled Mason's chair down another series of ramps to the ridge trail below the restaurant, where they strolled slowly as they talked. The wind had died, but the air was turning chilly; Mason took a blanket from a pouch and arranged it over his legs. Back on the deck, Lupe found a position that allowed her to keep an eye on them, opened a paperback, and pretended to read.

The sun was swelling as it descended, a bloated red balloon just above the horizon. On Sandia crest, the light that saturated every west-facing feature had turned a succulent orange-pink, startling in its contrast with the blues of evening infiltrating from the east. The light had named the mountain, Mason explained: sandia was the Spanish word for watermelon.

Mason lectured them as if they were a postgrad psych class and he was putting forward a case study for them to solve: "A fifteen-year-old boy, presenting intermittent but extreme symptoms. Two rounds of exhaustive testing show no cranial abnormalities and no seizure activity. Blood chemistry good, no indication of chronic disease or drug abuse. Good general health history. Psychological tests show a fairly normal adolescent male profile: issues with status and self-esteem, resistance to authority-the usual. Appears to be an active, healthy young man with a higher-than-average IQ and a notable talent at visual art, which brought him to the attention of Oak Springs School. Like many kids his age, he has a minor history of trouble-graffiti, a little vandalism, one arrest for underage driving and one for possession of marijuana at the age of thirteen. But he has no drugs in his system now and he claims he hasn't taken anything for two years. The hospital's initial diagnosis is dehydration and stress. After the second and third episodes and the diagnostic batteries that followed, their psych staff conclude he's faking it-this is a desperate bid for attention by a child deeply troubled for reasons not yet understood. They prescribe Prozac and talk therapy on an outpatient basis-"

"Diagnosis completely unsatisfactory to school administrators," Julieta interrupted. "This infuriates me-nobody could fake what he was doing! He-"

She cut herself off as Dr. Tsosie lightly touched her elbow. They exchanged a short glance and Julieta calmed herself with an effort.

"Diagnosis fails," Mason went on, unperturbed, "to consider the severity of symptoms or reliable observations of their anomalous nature by the residential staff, the school nurse, and the school physician. At which point Dr. Tsosie sought me out. I then spent two days at the school, during which I reviewed the patient's medical records, observed him while full symptoms were presenting, and conducted interviews. After which I decided that a further referral was necessary. By serendipitous good fortune, my first choice for that referral was soon to be in the area for a speaking engagement at UNM." Mason shut his eyes, tipped his head, and for a long moment let the rich light play on his skin. "Which brings us to Sandia Ridge for a sumptuous sunset and the joint contemplation of a most unusual and dire neuropsychological phenomenon."

They had stopped at the end of the ridge path. Beyond stood a forest of ponderosa pines, now a shadowy cathedral shot through with shafts of light that cut the tree canopy into an intricate lattice. A few sightseers clung to the rail far behind them, snapping photos. On the lower path, just back of the crest, other visitors had begun returning to the tram station, chattering, clutching sweaters and windbreakers tightly around them.

"I still don't know anything about the boy's condition," Cree said. "From what you've told me so far, I can't see why you think I might be of any help. What-he claims he's seeing ghosts?"

"I think we're getting ahead of ourselves here," Dr. Tsosie interposed. He'd stayed quiet throughout their conversation, maintaining a reserve that he seemed to overcome only with difficulty. "Dr. Ambrose, you have an impressive reputation. But I'm here because I need some reassurance that we're doing the right thing. I don't know anything about Ms. Black and I'm skeptical of supernatural explanations. That we're up here talking to a… I don't even know what you call Ms. Black… a medium?"

"A parapsychologist," Mason said contentedly. "With a Ph. D. in clinical psychology."

"That we're talking about a supernatural origin for Tommy Keeday's problems, and consulting with a ghost buster-my God, Julieta, if the board hears about this-"

"I think the way to address both issues," Mason cut in, "is to begin with Cree telling you something about her theories and her process. That will allow me to explain precisely why I sought her out and will perhaps allay some of your concerns as well, Joseph."

Arms folded against the chill, Julieta nodded. Frustrated, Dr. Tsosie stooped to pick up several stones from the edge of the path. He pitched one hard at the low red sun and watched it disappear into the abyss before he grudgingly dipped his head. "Okay."

"Your skepticism is justified," Cree began. "Movies, horror novels, and urban legends usually portray paranormal events in ways that are sensational and wildly inaccurate. My colleagues and I take a scientific approach. We don't claim anything like an objective understanding of what consciousness is, or the spirit or the soul, or what happens after death. But we do apply a range of investigative techniques that include seeking physical evidence by technological means, historical research, medical testing of witnesses, and psychological analysis. I don't like the word 'supernatural,' because what we study is entirely natural-it's just a domain of complex phenomena that few people have made systematic attempts to explore. We founded Psi Research Associates in 1997 with the goal of researching paranormal phenomena, but people usually come to us only when they have a problem with something inexplicable and troubling, and want to get rid of it. So in that sense, the term 'ghost buster' is not inaccurate. We prefer to say we 'alleviate' or 'remediate' hauntings."

Tsosie grunted as he winged another stone far out into the air. The sun was setting fast now, flattening on the bottom as ifbeginning to liquefy. "If there's any real science to parapsychology, why hasn't it become accepted in the mainstream? We know the inner workings of the atom, we've mapped the human genome. Why don't we have reliable information about ghosts?"

"Why?" Cree snapped. "How about asking why belief in ghosts has existed in remarkably consistent form in every culture throughout the world and throughout history? And why people keep reporting encounters with them today, more than ever, despite skepticism and ridicule from family, community, scientists, religious authorities, news media-"

She stopped, regretting her tone. These people were coping with something deeply upsetting, she reminded herself, something that had challenged their beliefs and made them desperate enough to come here for this meeting. Her heart moved in her chest, and she reached out to touch Julieta's arm before going on.

"There are many reasons why the phenomena I study aren't well understood. Not the least of them is that there's a powerful stigma attached to reporting them. A moment ago, when you mentioned your concern about how your board would react? That's a good example of how information about paranormal events gets repressed. People keep a lid on what they experience. As a result, we don't communicate data, we don't collect and correlate it. We tend to ignore what we see because it doesn't fit in with expectations, or will cause us problems. Scientists dealing with inexplicable anomalies fear for their reputations if they talk about them. In the old days, religious orthodoxy repressed data. You could be burned at the stake if you showed interest in whatever was deemed 'supernatural' at the time-much of which, I should point out, we now call 'science.' Nowadays, scientific orthodoxy just kills careers, but it's a powerful disincentive. So witnesses of ghosts often do a lot of self-censoring."

Of course, that was just the tip of the iceberg. But a full explanation of her theories of psychology and the ways of the universe wasn't something you could unload on people you'd just met.

Frustrated, Cree found her anger at Mason's manipulations growing. "Look, I'd be happy to skip all the explanations and justifications. Just tell me how any of this relates to your Tommy Whatshisname. I can't see that-"

"What is a ghost?" Julieta McCarty asked. Though she tried hard to control it, her jaw was trembling, teeth beginning to chatter from the cold. Her question seemed as much a challenge as an inquiry.

Cree took a breath to reclaim her patience. " 'Ghost' is a lousy word for a whole set of phenomena we don't understand. There are many kinds of noncorporeal entities. Most of the ones I deal with are fragments of a once-living human personality that somehow keep manifesting in the absence of a physical body. We have several theories as to how this can occur. The most common ghosts or revenants are what we call 'perseverating fragmentaries'-not so much whole beings as disconnected mental and emotional matrixes that replay independently of a corporeal self. Usually, ghosts are compulsively reliving important experiences, often the moment of their deaths-the perimortem experience-or crucial memories of their lives." She paused to gauge their reactions. "Look, I know this sounds like gobbledygook to you. It's impossible to-"

"How do you 'alleviate' ghosts?" Julieta asked.

Cree was getting increasingly impatient with the whole exercise, with Julieta's probing, Tsosie's skepticism, Mason's veiled amusement. Might as well give them the whole banana, she thought. And if they don't buy it, maybe I can get my butt off this freezing mountain and go home. "It goes back to theory," she said. "Ghosts don't appear to just anyone. There's always a link of some kind between the ghost and those who experience it. It might be a direct link-a relationship from the past, say-or a purely psychological one, a state of emotional vulnerability that primes the witness's mind for perceiving the ghost. Edgar Mayfield, my partner, thinks the link sensitizes the witness's central nervous system to the electromagnetic emanations of the ghost. I have a somewhat different theory, but in any case, that link is the reason most ghosts are perceived by only one or at best a very few people. Ghosts can be manifestations of any strong emotion or yearning, positive or negative, but they're almost always feelings that are unresolved. What I do is try to find that connection between ghost and witness, try to understand the issues that they have in common, what's unresolved for both of them. One of my clients called me a psychotherapist for ghosts, and that's not far wrong-except that I do it for the witnesses as well because ghost and witnesses need to progress in parallel toward resolution. Dr. Mayfield looks for physical evidence of ghosts and uses various technologies to try to identify the mechanisms of their manifestation. Our assistant, Joyce Wu, supports our work with historical research and forensic investigation. I use psychology and a special set of… sensitivities that Mason calls a variant of projective identification. I just call it empathy. All it means is that I intuitively mesh with people's feelings. I take on their states of mind, which helps me to see and understand the ghost they've seen. And helps me find the link between them."

To Cree's surprise, the whole banana didn't prompt another skeptical comment or semirhetorical question. On the contrary: Tsosie turned back from the cliff, his eyes seeking Julieta's, and Julieta faced him with a guarded expression that seemed to caution him to silence.

Half the sun's disk was below the distant mountains now, and the lovely light on the near rocks and trees dimmed as if absorbing darkness from the growing shadows. Far below, another tramcar was sliding up its invisible wire.

"Look, I can't package the whole thing in twenty-five words or less," Cree said, "any more than you could explain education or medicine. If you're not going to believe me, and you're not going to tell me anything about this boy, we should get back to the station. Is that the last car for the night? It's getting cold."

"Just one more question, Lucretia, please," Mason said. "Where do ghosts occur? Why do they appear in a given place?"

Cree glared at him but went along with it one last time. "We're not entirely sure. They often appear in the place where they died, or in a place that figured importantly in their lives. Some are very limited, able to manifest only in a single house or even just a single room or patch of ground. My partner believes they manifest where local electromagnetic or gravitational conditions are favorable. He has shown a correlation between cycles of manifestation and fluctuations in geomagnetic fields, such as those caused by tidal forces. The living human brain and nervous system is an electrically mediated organ and creates electromagnetic fields-that's what we measure when we take an electroencephalogram. I have a more complex view of it, but Ed believes that the strong emotions of the dying create fields that imprint on local geomagnetic fields, like tape recordings that play back when conditions are right."

"So these favorable conditions," Mason said, "according to Dr. Mayfield, they're electromagnetic fields that support or reinforce the energies of the ghost? Functionally, ghosts come into being when conditions exist that amplify or… host the ghost's feeble or latent fields?"

"Exactly."

Mason's face, bilious orange in the dying light, smiled hugely. "And, of course, it makes sense that another human brain and nervous system-a living one-would create just the right fields, correct? Would make the perfect amplifier? The perfect host? Isn't that concept entirely congruent with Edgar's thinking? Doesn't it jibe also with your own belief that ghosts manifest when they encounter a supportive neuropsychological or psychosocial environment?"

Oh my, Cree thought, seeing it at last.

They all watched her expectantly as she sorted through it. Of course. The history of it went back forever and ever, through every tradition of psychology and spirituality and medicine from the dawn of time. It was just too horrible to contemplate.

She was speechless for a moment before she tried the word. "You mean… possession. You think this boy is-"

Mason nodded minutely. Julieta and Dr. Tsosie, their faces in shadow now, just watched her.

Possession: The word seemed to linger in the air, a pollutant that hung like smoke between them. Whatever skepticism they'd felt had given way to ambivalence, and in only a few moments the dynamic had changed. It struck Cree that they were sincerely looking to her for answers, for help. Now she understood what their terse questioning really was. The effect of an intense paranormal experience was much like dealing with the death of a loved one: Witnesses went through a predictable sequence of denial, negotiation, anger, and resignation. People who came to a parapsychologist demanding "Prove it!" were actually people who'd already had a deeply convincing experience and were seeking assurance that there was some rational foundation for what they'd already been forced to deal with at an emotional level. That these two were already in the negotiating phase meant they'd had a tough time of it.

The sun had dwindled to a blob of molten magma at the horizon. Nearer now, the tramcar turned on its interior lights, and in the twilight the row of disembodied bright windows flew upward toward the station. Cree was freezing.

Possession: a being that lived inside you, laid its energies along your nerves, invaded the circuits of your brain, and took up residence in your thoughts. Reports of such occurrences stretched from oral traditions come down from prehistory to the Bible to well-documented cases in the present day. Of course, she and Ed had talked about it, but in ten years of paranormal research, Cree had avoided the concept, hoping it was just another example of sensational folklore or Hollywood horror hoopla, like zombies, werewolves, and witches on broomsticks.

But Mason was right, the local field of a human nervous system would create the perfect home for an errant, bodiless being. As would the proximity of a human personality going through parallel psychological processes. Possession was the ultimate affirmation of what Cree had always believed: that it was people who were haunted as much as places.

"Yes, that's what I was thinking, Cree," Mason said gleefully. "This boy is, in conventional parlance, possessed. And if I were you, I'd call your colleagues tonight. Tell them you've got what you've always wanted-a paranormal entity in a bottle, just waiting to be studied."