"Shhh," Gee said, finger to his lips. She couldn't tell if he was serious or not. His mouth held a permanent half smirk. "They're creating a mood. It was no good earlier but they might have it by now."
He pushed open the door. The OSNS had strained the basement of the church well beyond its original design. Tables and file cabinets lined the walls and middle space, the rest filled with laboratory and electronic equipment: microscopes, computers, and related peripherals, and other unrecognizable machines. A large refrigerator/freezer occupied a corner. Shelves held jar after jar of medical specimens. Unrecognizable objects floated in milky fluid.
It was impossible not to feel cramped. Jess felt everything crowding at her, demanding her attention. She felt like ducking her head, though the ceilings were at least ten feet.
At the far end of the basement was a tiny observation room she had not noticed at first. Gee led her closer. Through a plate-glass window, a man and woman faced each other with their hands clasped across a wooden table and their eyes closed. The woman had a blood pressure cuff attached to one arm and electrodes fastened to her forehead.
A tall, slender man stood just outside, watching a set of monitors with a clipboard in his hand. Classical music played from somewhere out of sight.
The woman opened her eyes. "Close the door, Gee," she said. "I can't think with all that going on."
"Close it yourself. I'd like to see that sometime. One of you sensitives actually doing something."
"Cut it out, Gee," the tall man said, coming out and looking at Jess. "We're all familiar with your opinion." He introduced himself as Patrick Elwes and spoke with a slight lisp. He was olive-skinned and serious, with round, frameless glasses and dark hair cropped tight against his scalp. His face was handsome and boyish, at odds with the rest of him.
"You're Charlie's friend. Dr. Chambers, isn't it?"
"I'm not a doctor. Quite a setup you've got here."
Patrick smiled in an awkward, pleased way that reminded her of a proud parent. "We make do. They won't let us in any other place in town. Scared of the publicity."
"So what is it?"
"Excuse me?"
"Gee's theory."
"Oh. Gee is of the opinion," Patrick said, "that table raising, levitation of any kind actually, is beyond the scope of psi. Gee is what we call an informed skeptic."
"Which just means that I'm withholding judgment," Gee said loudly. "Isn't that what proper experimenters do?"
She motioned toward the two others in the observation room, who were pretending to watch each other but kept glancing at her and then looking away. "Are they all right?"
"I think they're playing hard to get. Bilecki is a sensitive; she may already know all about you. The other one is James something. I just met him myself today."
"What were you doing over there again?"
"Table levitation. Attempting it anyway. We can't even get Bilecki's heart rate up, and her beta waves are too flat. It's no good."
"I knew it," Gee said. "Parlor tricks. We should get David Copperfield down here, it'd be more entertaining."
"That isn't what Miss Chambers has come here to see. I believe she has something very interesting to share with us."
They waited, watching her. Jess took a deep breath. "What has Charlie told you?"
"Only that you may have had a genuine psi experience. It really isn't that unusual," Patrick said. "You don't have to feel that you can't discuss it. We treat that sort of thing very seriously here. It's what we do."
"I really don't know what I have to tell you," she said. "If I was sure, I wouldn't have come. Let's just say I wanted to explore my options."
"Have you read the book The Reach of the Mind, Miss Chambers?"
"I . . . skimmed it."
"Rhine is a legend. The man who started it all. He coined the terms parapsychology, psychokinesis. What we call the Reach."
"Which is what, exactly?"
"The interaction of the mind with physical space. Mental energy. Mind over matter, you might say." Seeing her skepticism, Patrick explained, "It isn't as far-fetched as it might seem. Cases are continuing to surface, documented cases involving hundreds of scientists across the world. There are plenty of frauds out there trying to make a buck, but there are others. True sensitives."
"Like Bilecki here?"
Patrick smiled. "When the conditions are right, she's quite remarkable. It's rare to find a subject able to perform on command. So, what is it you've seen?"
"I don't really know. But levitating tables can't begin to describe it."
A sudden silence descended upon the group. Looking at the faces surrounding her, Jess said, "Maybe I shouldn't have come. I'm sorry."
Patrick studied her, the way she held her briefcase in both hands. "It would be better to talk in private," he said.
--20--
"Charlie tells me you're a flier," Patrick said, lighting a candle near the upstairs door.
They had retreated into the deserted' church. Gentle moonlight glowed through stained glass. The candlelight flickered across the backs of empty pews, sparked against something hidden within the shadows of the altar.
"I have a license, yes."
"What's that like?" he asked almost dreamily, his voice echoing back as he walked away from her along the wall, lighting more candles. As it grew the light gave life to the carvings, made the walls and stained glass figures dance like merry ghosts.
Jess felt a little off balance. She wasn't sure exactly what she thought of Patrick Elwes, but something about him made her want to hurry to catch up.
"Like freedom," she said. "At its best, weightlessness. Like a dream."
"And at its worst?"
"A way of avoiding things, I suppose. An escape, when running away isn't always the best choice. And sometimes it's a little hairy, especially in bad weather."
"I've always wanted to learn to fly."
"You've been up before?"
"No, never. I'm scared to death of it too. Isn't that crazy?"
"There are worse things to be afraid of."
Patrick nodded, turning back to face her. "How right you are."
They sat down next to each other in the front pew, Patrick with his long legs stretched out in front, Jess with her briefcase clutched on her lap.
Jess had the faintly unsettling feeling, half dream and half memory, of kneeling in front of an altar much like this one when she was a little girl. Her mother had dragged her to the Congregational church one Sunday morning to offer some kind of penance, the details of which had gone over her head. But she remembered a feeling of quiet dread mixed with embarrassment, as if they were interlopers at a private party.
Today she felt like speaking in whispers, as if they might be disturbing someone here in this empty house of God.
"I hope you don't mind the candles. I find it peaceful. And when it's not so bright, the neighbors don't notice the lights on and call the police." He smiled. "There's a rumor going around that the place is haunted. We like it, actually. It keeps the attention away from what we're doing."
Jess was trying not to stare at his eyes, which she had noticed were two slightly different colors, hazel and a light misty gray. They held the candlelight in their centers like tiny flickering suns.
The effect was distracting. She wondered if something had happened to him when he was young that had affected the pigment. He had a very slight accent that she couldn't quite place, or perhaps a speech impediment that he had spent many hours trying to erase.
"Heterochromia iridium," he said.