The Tibetan finished the transition: "Then we better commence before the first light of a golden dawn steals the night."
The small group of six gathered around a table that had already been prepared. Lighted candles dominated the center. Weber made a fire in the ornate fireplace and then extinguished the room's regular lights. Shadows danced them to their seats, comfortable armchairs carefully arranged around the perfectly circular table.
The general noticed that his wife sat next to HPB; the woman who gave his life meaning next to the woman who once saved his life. The faces of a saint and a gargoyle.
Younghusband announced that any who cared to search the room for devices were welcome to do so. A few snorts and shrugs made it clear that honor was satisfied.
Weber retired from the room to prepare a late-night cold supper for them when they returned from their journey into the unknown. It was half past midnight.
"You know why we are here," said Madame Helena Petrovna Blavatsky. "We won't be conjuring ghosts of the dearly departed. We have been instructed to be here by my Secret Master, a genius from ancient Atlantis who guided my actions back in 04. He has a message for us tonight but only if we are all together. I do not know the content of the message."
She laid out several pieces of blank paper. Her normal procedure was to take dictation from her spirit guide who obligingly translated the ancient Atlantean language into standard mediumistic scribbling easily translated into modern tongues. Perfect mind-to-mind contact always managed to overcome language barriers, at least according to every medium worth her essential salts.
The Tibetan volunteered to read HPB's spirit writings and inform the others of their content. While in her trance, the medium had no knowledge of what transpired. Everyone knew that. Everyone who believed in that sort of thing.
They began by holding hands. Mrs. Younghusband was surprised at the frailty of Herr List's grasp. She expected a stronger hand from someone who blustered. In contrast, the general noted yet again the strength in the big Swede's hands. Meanwhile, Hedin couldn't get over how strangely cool and dry was the Tibetan's hand.
The candles began to flicker even though there was no breeze. Then there was a heavy knocking from underneath the table. HPB's eyes started to roll up in her head and she seized her pen.
That was as far as the sйance got.
Or it might be more appropriate to say that was when the sйance actually began! The candles blew out and the pen flew out of the medium's hand to break against the fireplace. The blank pieces of paper followed the example of the pen and whirled into the fireplace where they did not so much burn as explode.
By some miracle, Madame Blavatsky recovered from her "trance." Her black eyes widened at the spectacle before them. According to the rules of a proper sйance, the manifestations should have ceased at that moment. They didn't.
Beyond their little inner sanctum they could hear Weber the butler pounding on the door to these rooms. He couldn't open it. His voice sounded as if it were at the bottom of a well as he shouted out their names.
"What is happening?" whispered HPB in an entirely new tone of voice. Mrs. Younghusband heard her and blurted out, "I think we're in for it."
That's when the humming began. It sounded like a machine revving up. A circle of canary-yellow light formed on the ceiling. They couldn't help but crane their necks and look up.
A vaguely human shadow began to form in the light. It was masculine with huge shoulders and a small head. HPB shrieked, "A Lemurian beastman!"
They had never heard her shriek before.
Then the head grew in size until it was larger than normal. A voice spoke from the ceiling:
"Sorry about that. Had a little trouble bringing myself into focus. I'm Madame's Atlantean contact, by the way. It's a bother appearing like this but it can't be helped."
This time Blavatsky moved up the scale to a full-throated scream and fell heavily upon the table. Mrs. Younghusband picked up where HPB left off and screamed, "I think she's dead!
"Damn!" said the voice from the ceiling. "Her ticker gave out. I suppose we'll have to finish this session without her."
"Excuse me," said the general, feeling weirdly in control of his senses as he addressed the ceiling, "but if our medium is dead, how can we still be communicating with you?"
"Bosh," said the slightly celestial voice. "You don't believe in this spiritualistic nonsense, do you?"
At this point, the German decided he should get into the screaming act himself but the voice was stern: "Stop that, you silly man." List stopped.
The voice, which the general began to notice was pleasant and mellifluous, continued, "I've been guiding the Blavatsky woman for the last twenty years. She was running a racket before that but I set things right when I began putting ideas into her head. She thought my notions were her notions, and really didn't have the wit to notice how much more effective she became at predictions. She even misremembered her past and assumed she'd always been on top of her game."
"Are you truly from Atlantis?" thundered Hedin, who was no more afraid than the general.
"Yes."
"But isn't that every bit as fantastic as what you call spiritualistic nonsense?"
"Not at all. Unless you believe lost civilizations are fairy stories. I'm using a time projector with a Vril lens."
"Oh," said Hedin, furiously stroking his beard.
The voice continued: "You see, ladies and gentlemen, we have a problem with the time stream. I was trying to prevent a disaster in the twentieth century and things haven't gone at all well."
"Why would you care about the twentieth century?" asked Younghusband.
"Because of dire effects on the twenty-fifth century, of course."
"You're from that era?"
"No, I'm from 20,000 b.c. Shall we get on with it? This little experiment of mine was to prevent wars in your century between England and Germany. There were some unfortunate consequences of those wars. Unfortunately, we have recalculated the sequences and it now appears that the new time stream we have created will be worse than the one we were trying to correct.
"The problem is that as a result of your small occult activities, alliances will be formed between all the so-called Aryan races. Primarily, England and Germany will unite, leading to the mass murder of so many Europeans of unpopular creeds and ethnic identities that that it will cause worse results in your future than what would have occurred from the wars."
The German came out of his own trance and blurted out, "What do you mean so-called Aryan races?"
"They don't exist. Every human currently alive belongs to the same race, and there's much room for improvement."
"What is the point of your appearance here tonight?" asked the general.
"To prevent the alliance of England and Germany."
The general furrowed his brow. "And if we prevent that alliance, then millions of innocents won't die in Europe?"
"There's a certain irony to that. The victims that will come of war add up to a sizable number, but not as many as from the alliance."
Mrs. Younghusband remarked, "Then maybe only thousands will die if the Aryan nations fail to unite?"
The shadow on the ceiling seemed to shiver, and then spoke quietly. "Far more than that, I'm afraid, but still not so many as to fatally change the course of Western civilization."
"So you admit that the West is the most important civilization?" thundered Hedin.
"For the weapons it will create, Sven Hedin. For the weapons! We of Atlantis know all about weapons."
"It's a trick," shouted List. "I don't believe a word of it. There's probably some Jew behind all this!"