Mind to Mind: Ashton Ford, Psychic Detective by Don Pendleton Page B
Authors: Don Pendleton
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I do not remember the end of it. I just remember
awakening in the awareness of daylight, alone in the bed. The
telephone was ringing far away. I could also hear the water running
in the shower, and I remember wondering about ghosts taking
showers. The clock beside the telephone was showing six o'clock.
The voice on the telephone was Alison's. She seemed very
disturbed.
"What's wrong?" I asked thickly, trying to
pull myself into the objective world.
"Something very strange has occurred," she
told me, somewhat breathless.
I growled, "Ditto."
"What?"
"Tell me yours first."
"I—I don't know, I—this is more your kind of
stuff than mine, I guess."
"What is?" I was waking up quickly.
"I—this will sound crazy—I believe Jane was
here."
"When?"
"Just now. I woke up and
there she was. Wrapped in a towel. Seemed to be trying to tell me
something. She kissed my cheek. It was very ... real. I was scared
to death! She removed the towel and showed me the ... the thing on her tummy, the
design. I thought, Oh God I'm dreaming and I wish I'd wake up. I
took my eyes away for just a second, to turn on the bedlamp, and
she was gone when I looked back. Ash ... I was not
dreaming."
"How do you know that?"
"Because the towel is
still here, on my bed. It's damp. It's ...Ash ...?"
"Yeah, I'm here."
"It's one of your towels. I recognize it.
The big blue one with the embossed—"
I growled, "Hold the
phone," and rolled off the bed, staggered into the bathroom. The
water was running in the shower, yeah, but no one was in there. One
of the towels was missing. I turned off the water, went looking for
Jane. But I was alone in that house. My computer was up. I vaguely
remembered trying to encourage Jane to use it, guessed I'd
forgotten to download it. But then I looked again. It was not as I
had left it. A totally new graphic was displayed on the monitor. I
shivered, picked up the phone in there, told Alison, "It's okay.
You had a valid experience. Don't sweat it. But if you want to talk
about it ..."
She said, "Be there in an hour." She sounded
better, relieved.
I just wished there was someone around to
relieve me. I hope you understand how I felt about all this. Are
you in my place now? And are you, then, as unglued as I was?
Chapter Ten: Kingdom of
Nonsense
If we are to finish this story together, I
guess I'd better talk a bit about my view of reality.
I actually see two basic realities, or two
ways of experiencing the one reality. Let's make no mistake about
it, there is but one overriding reality. The differences in view,
or experience, are a product of the way that you and I are screwed
into that reality, our orientation to it.
Do not consider for even a
moment any chance that the world you understand is anywhere near
the same world that your dog or cat understands, the same one
understood by the bird in the tree, or the tree itself, or the
parasites clinging to the tree. For each of us, all of us who are
caught up in this experience called life , the understanding is somewhat
different. There is, I think, a more or less "common experience"
that is shared to some extent by members of the various species.
Most of us in the human species view the same world, more or less,
though each of us in our unique way. I think probably birds do
that, dogs do it, snails do it, flowers of the garden do it, the
bees in the flowers do it; each group to their own common
reality.
In my formal thinking I
call this "shared experience" the Reality Quotient, or RQ. This may
be somewhat arrogant, but I assign an RQ of 100 to the human
species, as a measurement of self-conscious apprehension in the
space-time continuum. Any RQ rating below 100 would indicate an
intelligence that does not appear to have the capability of
reflective thought; that is, consciousness but not
self-consciousness, reactive awareness but not creative awareness.
This category would include a spider as he spins his web; he spins
not because he has
awakening in the awareness of daylight, alone in the bed. The
telephone was ringing far away. I could also hear the water running
in the shower, and I remember wondering about ghosts taking
showers. The clock beside the telephone was showing six o'clock.
The voice on the telephone was Alison's. She seemed very
disturbed.
"What's wrong?" I asked thickly, trying to
pull myself into the objective world.
"Something very strange has occurred," she
told me, somewhat breathless.
I growled, "Ditto."
"What?"
"Tell me yours first."
"I—I don't know, I—this is more your kind of
stuff than mine, I guess."
"What is?" I was waking up quickly.
"I—this will sound crazy—I believe Jane was
here."
"When?"
"Just now. I woke up and
there she was. Wrapped in a towel. Seemed to be trying to tell me
something. She kissed my cheek. It was very ... real. I was scared
to death! She removed the towel and showed me the ... the thing on her tummy, the
design. I thought, Oh God I'm dreaming and I wish I'd wake up. I
took my eyes away for just a second, to turn on the bedlamp, and
she was gone when I looked back. Ash ... I was not
dreaming."
"How do you know that?"
"Because the towel is
still here, on my bed. It's damp. It's ...Ash ...?"
"Yeah, I'm here."
"It's one of your towels. I recognize it.
The big blue one with the embossed—"
I growled, "Hold the
phone," and rolled off the bed, staggered into the bathroom. The
water was running in the shower, yeah, but no one was in there. One
of the towels was missing. I turned off the water, went looking for
Jane. But I was alone in that house. My computer was up. I vaguely
remembered trying to encourage Jane to use it, guessed I'd
forgotten to download it. But then I looked again. It was not as I
had left it. A totally new graphic was displayed on the monitor. I
shivered, picked up the phone in there, told Alison, "It's okay.
You had a valid experience. Don't sweat it. But if you want to talk
about it ..."
She said, "Be there in an hour." She sounded
better, relieved.
I just wished there was someone around to
relieve me. I hope you understand how I felt about all this. Are
you in my place now? And are you, then, as unglued as I was?
Chapter Ten: Kingdom of
Nonsense
If we are to finish this story together, I
guess I'd better talk a bit about my view of reality.
I actually see two basic realities, or two
ways of experiencing the one reality. Let's make no mistake about
it, there is but one overriding reality. The differences in view,
or experience, are a product of the way that you and I are screwed
into that reality, our orientation to it.
Do not consider for even a
moment any chance that the world you understand is anywhere near
the same world that your dog or cat understands, the same one
understood by the bird in the tree, or the tree itself, or the
parasites clinging to the tree. For each of us, all of us who are
caught up in this experience called life , the understanding is somewhat
different. There is, I think, a more or less "common experience"
that is shared to some extent by members of the various species.
Most of us in the human species view the same world, more or less,
though each of us in our unique way. I think probably birds do
that, dogs do it, snails do it, flowers of the garden do it, the
bees in the flowers do it; each group to their own common
reality.
In my formal thinking I
call this "shared experience" the Reality Quotient, or RQ. This may
be somewhat arrogant, but I assign an RQ of 100 to the human
species, as a measurement of self-conscious apprehension in the
space-time continuum. Any RQ rating below 100 would indicate an
intelligence that does not appear to have the capability of
reflective thought; that is, consciousness but not
self-consciousness, reactive awareness but not creative awareness.
This category would include a spider as he spins his web; he spins
not because he has
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