The Knowing: A thrilling horror fantasy Read online

  “Dorso yadda-yadda-yadda,” the doctor seemed to be saying.

  “You don’t mean the DLPFC?” Dale heard Steve say excitedly.

  Dr Kyriakides was glowing with delight. Put two psychologists together and they’ll spout abbreviations as if they’re the keys to some ancient religion. It was just like the KCPD. Dale eased himself into a sitting position and glanced across at the screen they were glued to. He’d seen a few brain scans in recent months and reckoned he knew his frontal cortex from his cerebellum. Steve and the doctor were busily fingering some spots on the display that glowed a bright yellow like the sun in Missouri’s high summer. If he didn’t know better, he’d have thought his brain was on fire.

  “Yes, Sergeant, his DLPFC is all fired up,” the doctor was saying keenly. “I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”

  “Excuse me,” Dale said, swiftly regaining lucidity. If there was a fire to put out, he’d need his wits about him. “Being the owner of that fine grey matter, am I not entitled to know what you’re looking at?” But even before he’d asked the finely phrased question, he’d guessed the answer. His heart was going pitter-patter all over again.

  There was a momentary silence while the doctor stroked his beard and Steve dragged both hands through his hair. It was as if they were transacting their analysis by semaphore, leaving him to fester in the hot seat. That’s why he would never allow Steve to drive his DeLorean. He needed assertive. He needed definitive. He definitely didn’t need fucking analysis. Ms Jenkins reached over to reassure him with her long dexterous fingers. That was a nice touch. And Steve had witnessed it. He was staring at him suspiciously beneath his long, dark eyelashes.

  “That is your brain, Lieutenant,” Dr Kyriakides said with compassionate simplicity. “It’s a damn fine brain, and hot, if you’ll pardon the expression. Which means that – ” Dale could see the rub coming at him like an express train, “ – the DLPFC is showing intense activation.”

  Dale considered that carefully. “That’s where everything is sorta gathered together, right?”

  The doctor and Steve nodded in synchrony. Whenever his boyfriend did that, Dale couldn’t help but imagine him on the back shelf of a car. He was so good at that repetitive movement. That was the only way he resembled a dog, of course.

  “Correct,” Dr Kyriakides said, clearly impressed. “The DLPFC is also thought of as the precognitive area. Essentially, its role is to receive sensory input and pass it on to the frontal cortex. But in your case, there was little sensory input while you were in the scanner, meaning that the activation had to be coming from –

  ” “Something unknown and invisible?” Dale offered with a partially educated guess. Being stuck inside the Chester’s Mill dome had to be his worst nightmare. It was the same old issue of out of control situations coming back to haunt him. Without any means of escape.

  Steve had stopped bobbing his head and was looking straight at him. The doctor had just mouthed, “Yes.”

  “So, how?” Dale hardly dared to ask. He’d seen too many movies involving alien takeover and didn’t fancy trying sleep deprivation as a way of keeping the bastards out of his head.

  Dr Kyriakides threw his hands up in frustration and grinned sheepishly. “I don’t know, Lieutenant, but it is rather intriguing. Perhaps it’s all due to EM radiation.” He’d said that with a shrug, so it was hardly a definitive diagnosis, but it gave Dale an idea worth pursuing.

  “The strange thing is, Doctor, I seemed to be getting more random thoughts when I was in the scanner,” he said. “And my nuts were aching, too.”

  “Nuts?”

  “Oh, you know, nuts, balls, bollocks, cojones ...” “Ah, yes, the testicular pain, as mentioned in the urologist’s report.” Dr Kyriakides reached across for the file and started thumbing through it. “Hmm, that’s interesting ...”

  “I thought he gave me a clean bill of health,” Dale said. He didn’t like people reading stuff about him that he had no knowledge of. It just wasn’t cricket.

  “Well, yes, but not exactly,” the doctor said confusingly. “The point is, Lieutenant, that some of your blood tests came back abnormal. DHT, TSH, FSH, LH ... they’re all elevated and by some margin.”

  Dale knew that should have worried the hell out of him, but it made sense. His nuts had been trying to tell him that sort of gobbledegook all along. He’d always been useless at listening to his inner self. The simple message was: he’d been under attack, and it had been sneakily below the belt. “And the thoughts I’m getting?”

  “Well ...” the doctor was messing with his beard again, “I think the testicular pain and the precognition are somehow connected. We know from studying children affected by ‘the screaming’ that EM radiation causes cerebral atrophy like with Alzheimer’s disease, so other parts of the body could be vulnerable, too. Any organ with high rates of cell division, such as the gonads, would be particularly susceptible. MRI uses resonant frequencies up to 85 megahertz, so that’s probably where we should be investigating. As to where the thoughts are coming from – ” his hands shot up again, “ – well, I’d put my money on some fundamental particles having a few tricks up their sleeves.” He paused, looking self-conscious. “Sorry, that was stupidly anthropomorphic and a bit of a lecture, but it’s what MI5 pay me to do. You know, inwardly digest, cogitate and, hopefully, spew out something that makes sense to the average layperson.”

  “Sorta makes sense to me,” Dale said. Getting his head around his latest trip into The Twilight Zone might be a tad complicated, but it was a walk in the park compared with the horror of ‘the screaming’ – so far, at least. It was the doctor’s mention of spewing that had him worried. When he threw up, he really tossed his cookies. And the incident with the stroller still had him spooked. If it was simple stuff, with a bit of personalised divination here and there, no problem. He could book a booth at the Kansas State Fair. The mighty Thor would have to chill out until he’d gotten his bearings. Anyway, the hammer wouldn’t fit with KCPD standard operating procedures. But he might borrow the leather tunic for the season.

  “Me, too,” Steve said, “or, at least, the first part. One thing that’s bugging me is why Dale was only affected when we arrived at the airport. I mean, is it something about the UK that’s different to the US?” There was a subtle shift in his features. “Jeez! I’ve got it! We haven’t switched off the cell networks.”

  Dale had said it before, and he’d say it again: his boyfriend was way too bright to be a cop.

  Steve’s blinding insight galvanised Dr Kyriakides into action like the frog that kicked its legs in the name of science. He leaped out of his chair, at a speed Dale would normally have deemed impossible given his bulk, and dived for the wall-sized display, his fingers reaching out as if to phone homes in multiple galaxies. The screen came to life with what appeared to be a weather map of the UK, dominated by a mass of multi-coloured clouds. It was more like The Wizard of Oz than the nightly news bulletin and Dale was on the lookout for the yellow brick road.

  “That’s the EM spectrum for the UK before Wi-Fi and mobile networks were switched off,” Dr Kyriakides said. “The bright green colour represents the 2.4 gigahertz band of Wi-Fi and the dark yellow is the 2.1 gigahertz used by mobile phones. If I change the orientation of the display, it should become a little clearer.”

  The doctor wasn’t kidding. As the map shifted into 3D, the chaotic tapestry of overlapping clouds turned into stratified ovals littering the length and breadth of the UK. It was a tad too Jackson Pollock for Dale’s taste, but there was no doubt about the widespread take-up of Wi-Fi and cell phone technology across the country. He figured that the Outer Hebrides must have been the safest place to be if you were a teenager. Kids probably weren’t allowed to consume trans fats there, either.

  “Jesus!” Dale said. “Are those really all different frequencies?”

  “Absolutely,” Dr Kyriakides said. “There’s EM radiation wherever you care to look. Between 118 and 137 megahertz, there
are 1,000 channels used by civil aviation. The TETRA system used by the police force operates in the microwave region, at 380 megahertz. Our friend over there – ” he pointed in the direction of Dale’s idea of a dryer from hell, “ – is responsible for the wispy magenta cloud of frequencies between 15 and 80 megahertz you can see lying low over cities with hospitals.”

  Dale had never liked the colour magenta even as a child. Perhaps that had been a subtle alert to his current predicament.

  “And now,” the doctor continued, “here’s the picture from just a week ago, with Wi-Fi and mobile networks switched off.”

  This time the colour separation of the 3D display was essential. Although the bright green and dark yellow had disappeared, other colours had appeared as blobs across the landscape. Dale’s knowledge of UK geography was hardly extensive, but even he couldn’t miss the rainbow hued colours hovering ominously over South East England.

  “What’s curious is that we’re seeing new frequency bands that weren’t there before,” Dr Kyriakides said. “It’s as if Wi-Fi and mobile networks were preventing other frequencies from getting a look in.”

  Dale and Steve exchanged glances. “We get that the whole time in the US,” Dale said. “One gang jams another gang’s communications. There’s a massive black market for the technology and it’s coming from the same countries making cell phones in the first place. It’s like a pit bull chomping on another dog’s balls. Alpha male bullshit, in other words.” He smiled wryly. Been there, done that, he thought.

  “Do you have an equivalent map for the US?” Steve asked sensibly.

  “Actually, we do,” the doctor said, “although the detail is rather basic. We have to rely on third parties for the data.”

  Dr Kyriakides danced his digits again and Dale gazed at his homeland rendered in a way he could never have imagined. He pondered on what the Department of Homeland Security would make of the multi-coloured hotspots that littered the US. Time to apply my well-honed deductive reasoning, Dale thought. He cracked his knuckles.

  “So, what you’re saying, Doctor, is that there’s a mess of radio frequencies out there, but something’s happening in the UK that isn’t occurring in the US because we didn’t go for the switch off. And somehow, I seem to be caught in the middle of it.”

  “That about sums it up,” Dr Kyriakides said. Dale glanced at Ms Jenkins, who’d been nodding away with the wisdom of a sage. He’d even noticed some grey hairs defiling her glossy carapace.

  “And then there’s my iPhone,” Dale continued. “I guess it must be blocking some of the radiation.”

  “I imagine so,” the doctor said thoughtfully. “May I take a look at your phone, Lieutenant?”

  Dale passed his iPhone reluctantly to the doctor. The cell was still thrumming as Dr Kyriakides took it ... and then almost dropped it. “Sorry, I didn’t expect it to be so warm,” he said with an apologetic grin. He touched the back of the phone with his fingertips. “Yes, it’s definitely throbbing.” The doctor handed the phone back to Dale who was already developing separation anxiety.

  Dr Kyriakides teased his beard and a grain of something fell onto his lap. Dale wondered whether he washed his whiskers. “Normally, mobile phones use cells to receive and transmit calls,” the doctor said. “But cell networks are inactive at the moment, apart from a few clandestine operations that have sprung up.”

  “Hence the Met’s Operation Bloodhound,” Dale said, musing on what a police dog would discern from a sniff of the shaggy beard.

  “Exactly. And if I’m right about the frequency that’s affecting your testicles, I think it’s somehow caused the iPhone to form its own cell, which seems to be in a feedback loop and transmitting an inverse of the original signal.”

  “Like noise-cancelling headphones,” Steve said.

  Dr Kyriakides nodded. “So, in other words, your mobile phone is protecting you from EM radiation by emitting yet more EM radiation.”

  “Dale, you’d better watch out your iPhone doesn’t burst into flames while you’re holding it against your nuts,” Steve said, cringing and giggling simultaneously.

  Dr Kyriakides squirmed. “Yes, that would be most unfortunate. I’d recommend using your phone in short bursts for optimum therapeutic effect, Lieutenant.”

  Ms Jenkins’s derisive snort indicated what she thought of the doctor’s advice. “That all seems somewhat ironic considering that mobile phones caused the bloody problem in the first place,” she said huffily. “It’s a pity Dai didn’t learn that trick with mobile phones. He could have saved himself a lot of discomfort.”

  “Dai is rather different, Deborah,” Dr Kyriakides said. “He – ”

  “You don’t need to remind me, Doctor,” Ms Jenkins said sharply.

  “In Dai’s case,” the doctor continued, apparently unperturbed, “it’s his entire body that’s sensitive to EM radiation, so only a Faraday cage could have protected him. Anything fabricated from a hollow shell of conducting material makes a good Faraday cage – a plane or car, for instance. Dai used a metallised fabric for his whole body protection, which was almost as effective.”

  Dale was trying to put two and two together, but something still didn’t fit. “Okay, so why was I still getting pain in my nuts when we were in the cab coming from the airport?”

  Dr Kyriakides paused for a moment. “That’s easy, Lieutenant. A London black cab might be a car, but many of them are fabricated out of fibreglass, so the bodywork isn’t conductive and doesn’t actually constitute a Faraday cage. The limousine that brought you here is constructed of steel, which is why you didn’t experience any discomfort.”

  “Dai was wearing his protection when we met in the Burn Center,” Steve said keenly. “It looked really uncomfortable, though, and he said he always had a problem finding the right grounding.”

  “Sir David, if you don’t mind,” Ms Jenkins said. Her nose twitched condescendingly, as if to the manor born.

  “So, perhaps Dale could wear something similar to the mesh Sir David – ” Steve smiled saccharine sweetly in Ms Jenkins’s direction, “ – used to block out EM radiation.”

  “I suppose so,” Dr Kyriakides said with a hint of wistfulness. “In fact, we developed a rather nice nanofibre version for him. It might even fit the lieutenant. And I believe it’s fire retardant.”

  Dale noticed Steve sniggering into his hand. The notion of the mighty Thor in a nanofibre body costume didn’t have nearly the same allure. Perhaps the doctor could rustle up a pair of hi-tech briefs. They had to be more comfortable than a metallic space blanket fashioned into a diaper.

  “Doctor, going back to the precognition bit of it,” Dale said, “I’m still trying to get my head around how I can know things before they’ve happened. I mean, I’m not exactly like your quantum computer.”

  Dr Kyriakides chuckled. “No, if you were, Lieutenant, you’d be deep frozen by now, as it’s in a box cooled by liquid nitrogen. All the computer does is predict using trillions of observations. For instance, there’s usually a one in 20 chance I’ll cook moussaka for dinner. The odds go up if I’ve missed lunch and I’m particularly hungry. If I go swimming, the chance goes higher. So, taking all the potential variables that describe my eating behaviour, the quantum computer would be accurate 99 per cent of the time at predicting what I’ll have for my evening meal.”

  Dale thought cryogenic menu planning sounded a waste of resources, but he got the picture. He tried to imagine the doctor in a pair of Speedos. He sure wasn’t a Tom Daley lookalike. He’d bet a hundred bucks on him having a hairy back. Judging by the smirk on Steve’s face, his thoughts had been heading along similar lines.

  “Yup, that makes sense,” Dale said, “but that’s hardly gonna set the world alight. Let’s say your quantum computer existed back in 2001. Would it have been able to predict the 9/11 attacks?”

  Dr Kyriakides shifted his bulk. The chair creaked under the burden of the enquiry. “That’s an interesting question ... a little unfair, but still in
teresting.” His droopy moustache twitched at the corners. “The answer is a probable yes, Lieutenant. We ran a simulation with data feeds available back then and the computer predicted a number of events. The actual targets were hidden inside the terrorists’ brains. The limiting factor is the intelligence, not the machine. Of course, if we could tap into peoples’ minds ...” He raised his heavyweight shoulders.

  “Which is why Dai Williams is so interesting to MI5,” Steve piped up.

  Ms Jenkins waggled a finger. “Naughty boy,” she said.

  Dale wasn’t finished quite yet. “So, returning to my brain, Doctor, what do you think is going on? Ms Jenkins mentioned something about some Heisenberg whatchamacallit, but I don’t get how something that’s uncertain can be an explanation for future events dropping into my head.”

  Dr Kyriakides nodded. “I agree that it requires a leap of faith ... a quantum leap, one might say.” He chuckled. “Let’s say it’s part of the explanation. To put it bluntly, current theories about time only going in one direction may be wrong.” The doctor knotted his fingers behind his head and the chair lurched backwards alarmingly, as if to illustrate his remark.

  Steve was already raising a hand to comment upon the doctor’s unstable seating arrangement. He’d always been top of the class when it came to health and safety.

  “I know, I know, it sounds ridiculous,” Dr Kyriakides said, “but please hear me out, Sergeant.”

  Steve mouthed, “This better be good,” crossing his arms huffily.

  The doctor took a deep breath. “Okay, there’s a strange behaviour of subatomic particles called quantum entanglement, whereby something done to one particle affects the entangled particle at a speed faster than light, even if the other particle is a distance away. Einstein referred to this as ‘spooky action at a distance’. Some researchers have speculated that this might be a way of communicating over vast distances. But, in one experiment carried out in Japan, the change in the remote particle actually anticipated the first. Conventional wave theory expects one-way causality; the Japanese experiment suggests it might be bidirectional under certain circumstances. I’d wager the recipe for my grandmother’s moussaka that your brain is tapping into this quantum entanglement.”