result of an external, environmental influence.”
“A sunrise can make me happy. Is that not an environmental influence?”
“Er, yes. Yes, but that's not the same thing. You can't measure a sunrise.”
“What if we could?”
“Huh? Measure a sunrise? Don't be silly, lad.”
“Perhaps we just have not put time to thinking about how to measure abstractions. A sunrise, I can agree, is a complex scenario.”
“It's just silly. And, what's more, um, the emotion a sunrise might evoke is still subjective and internal to the perceiver!” he argued.
I pondered, “Is that not the same with balance? Say, if I am inclined I can tell that I am not level. An incline can be measured externally with a protractor, and it will also have an effect internally, so even though the personal is subjective, the external is objective.”
“Er, yes.”
“In much the same way as I can feel if something is hot or cold, the sensation produced from an external source is palpable and detectable –”
“It's still relative to the observer.”
“Yes, yes it is, which is why we standardise and calibrate our measuring equipment, is it not?”
“Indeed.”
“Perhaps it is more than a single measurement, though. The overall comfort, if that can be a guide, of an environment relates not just to the temperature, but also the humidity.”
“And the pressure. And the quality of the air. Many factors,” the Professor rejoined.
“So could it be that that which evokes an emotional response is actually detectable in a mechanical way, such that one might be able to, scientifically, record the creepiness of an environment? Or the sadness?” I said, “And then, if standardised, we could use these recordings to determine trends, in exactly the same way as humidity or pressure.”
The Professor stroked his beard quietly until we reached the laboratory.
As the rattling of the wheels came to a stop, he shrugged, “That's an interesting proposition, it is. Not one for pondering over at midnight. You'll be here first thing tomorrow?”
I yawned, “Yes, Professor. Good night, Professor.”
My sleep was not at all restful that night. Every dream I had was plagued by an uneasy sense of something following me, stalking me. It did not have a form or a face, yet it felt intelligent, intellectual, a very real danger that wished to do me harm.
A few times I awoke. The room was dark and silent, warm to the point of being comfortable. There was no threat, no motion, no sound from within or without, nothing strange that should cause me to wake. Each time I fell asleep watching the shadows, fearing that at any moment an evil would come creeping upon me while I slept.
The darkness that followed me was latent when I was awake, manifesting only when my weary eyes could hold themselves open no longer.
It was a palpable malice that crept through my mind, leaving an odorous trail in my memory, and it stayed with me until the morning broke.
I was sweating, even though the morning was cool. In the sunlight coming through my window, the memory of the evil that plagued me the previous night seemed diminished, even silly. How much difference between night and day!
I rubbed my eyes, washed, dressed, brushed my hair and raced to the laboratory, keen to get to the bottom of the mystery.
I greeted the Professor, put on a pot of tea and sat quietly by, occupied with some administration, as he performed his morning routine. Eventually he took out the Jolimont file, signalling that it was time to discuss matters.
“I have been thinking,” he began, “That I made a mistake.”
“A mistake?”
“A miscalculation, I guess. When I secured the right to investigate Jolimont from Mister French, it was after an initial investigation to determine the nature of reported strange goings-on. Things moving about. Indeterminate noises. Pungent odours. A sense of unease. I found nothing then and nothing on subsequent investigations. I declared that, based upon the lack of any evidence to the contrary, the reports relating the house were most likely exaggerated as a result of local gossip.”
He sipped he tea, looking at the case notes.
“I told him I would keep an eye on the house, in return for the right to investigate. The arrangement worked out well. I secured a control house, he secured peace of mind.”
“How is that a mistake?”
“The mistake is that I made an assumption. A lack of evidence is not, in itself, enough upon which to base such a statement,” he said.
I said, “We've investigated more than a couple of times, Professor, and there has been nothing. Even with the new equipment.”
“And that brings me to my point. How can I know if my equipment is even capable of detecting the presence of a ghost if I have nothing against which to calibrate or show a relationship? If I measure the temperature of this tea with a compass, you would laugh.”
“I think I would! Oh. I see.”
He nodded, “Therein lies the conundrum. My assumption is that physical measurements must be able to demonstrate the presence of an entity.”
“But they do or, at least, our results indicate that they do,” I said, “We've found correlations between readings and activity.”
“But not consistently and not across different sites! Who is to say a correlation between environmental factors isn't specific to a particular kind of haunting?” he said, stroking his chin, “If there is interaction with the physical realm that produces different observable quantities, like making sound, or reflecting light, or smells, or motion. Emotions! I see. I see. If we ever get enough data, we should compare relationships based upon the type of manifestation. Maybe we might even include, as separate notes, our emotional state while observing.”
“Yes, Professor.”
“Every bit of evidence is worthy of consideration. Who knows what will be the key to unlock the riddle?”
“Speaking of which, Professor, I have had a question on my mind since last night,” I said.
“Which is?”
“What is it?”
He scratched his head, “What is it?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“Yes!”
“What?”
“Professor!”
“What is what?”
“What are we dealing with? What happened at Jolimont? Something is in there, in the cellar, I know it! It is haunted. We thought it was not but it is, I can get over that but, what is it?”
“Oh. To be truthful, I – I don't know.”
“Professor, if you don't know...”
“Confound it! I don't know because that was the first time I have ever seen something so aggressive. Considering we don't have any observational data for the cellar, what with your notepad in ribbons, and only your testimony to go off, I simply cannot say – right now.”
He looked at his empty tea cup longingly. Taking the hint, I fixed another pot.
The Professor does not like to admit that he does not know something, a trait common across many scientists I have met, and worse than not knowing something is being asked a question about which he has not pondered.
At such times, I would busy myself, giving him the opportunity to ruminate and form an opinion.
I spent a little time getting some biscuits, just to be sure.
He called out, while I was wrestling with the tin, “Considering Jolimont hasn't shown a lick of activity since we've been there, and considering that this looks nothing like any other case in my experience, I am inclined to think that there is something else at play.”
“Something else?”
“Yes. Something decidedly not paranormal.”
“I must protest! There were no animals, apart from mice, in that basement, and certainly no other humans. What happened was other-worldly...”
“Have you forgotten Hampton Court already, Laddie?”
“That's not the same thing!”
There was no need to rebuke. He let
my own nonsensical words echo in my ears.
I sighed, for he was right, “No, Professor. I have not forgotten.”
“Bully for you! We should first and foremost, in all circumstances, look for causes natural and mundane to anything that might present itself as paranormal, for the chances are greater that they will turn out to be quite normal indeed.”
“Natural causes? Professor, what sort of natural cause can tear up a notepad? What sort of natural cause can blow out a lantern? What sort of natural cause can leave footprints?”
“I don't know! That's what science is about. We make no assumptions, we make no conclusions until everything has been examined and tested,” he said, his face going red, “No matter how tempting it may be to state as fact an explanation to a mysterious phenomenon, we must stand firm, be objective, look at all the evidence gathered.”
“It is just that –”
“What's more, it's at times when something appears to be obvious that we must be extra vigilant in our observation and our analysis.”
“I am sorry Professor...”
“And I am not! It is a long time between such challenges, laddie, and when they arrive one must be ready!”
I understood then that he was not angry, he was excited. Excited at the possibility of hard evidence. Excited that Jolimont may well have proven to be the undeniable point of evidence he was after. Excited that he had found a new kind of haunting.
Anything new promises new opportunities.
“I see, Professor. So where shall we begin?”
“What? Why, we shall approach this methodically. We shall go back to the start. Revisit our notes. The time of day, the places, the observations, the recordings. See if there is anything anomalous in there, anything that doesn't match between yours