The Entity Pt. 02

Linda, like everyone else in the ready room was stunned into inaction. Finally, the captain clapped his hands and yelled. "Get with it people. I want answers!"

The room erupted in noise as people scrambled.

*****

Within an hour of inception he had followed the only lead he'd been able to find. While he had no awareness of three dimensional space, he carried a very clear picture of the avenues and gateways he'd originated from.

The Waverly Hill Clinic was traced through several layers of shelter companies and off shore banks, into Geneva which opened up hundreds of avenues that circled the globe.

The only individual he was able to find listed was Theodora Elizabeth Miller. Calculating her age, he decided she'd died long before computer records became the norm. Working back through what he could find told him the only living relative of Theodora was a niece, twice removed, named Tammy Spalding.

He wasn't sure what help Tammy would be but he'd decided he needed her.

He also decided it was time to make contact with the rest of the world.

*****

Tammy was back in the dungeon. She couldn't believe it. As a computer science graduate and manufacturer trained technician in every piece of hardware in the building, she could not accept the fact that she could not solve the problem.

Everything had checked out in systems. She had watched as their security suit ran a full scan on the main frames. She'd even called their software's corporate watchdog number to be told nothing much was happening.

Falling back on procedure, she'd finally called Scanner Bob at one in the morning. His winded state and a husky voice from somewhere in the background told her much more than she wanted to know.

"Just turn the terminal off and we'll look at it together on Monday," had been his curt reply.

So she had. Arriving home at two in the morning, her bad mannered boyfriend had been in an amorous mood which only led to an inter-coital argument, leaving her sweaty, sticky and unsatisfied.

After assigning his ass to the couch she'd dug around for her little silver pacifier and found sleep on the other side of a quick battery drain.

Breakfast and some very intense make-up sex brought her back to life. Deciding a Monday morning, elbow to elbow, with Scanner Bob wasn't her idea of fun had finally brought her back into the office just before ten AM Sunday morning.

A little reluctantly, she flipped on the terminal and logged in. Scanning the numbers on the first screen of accounts, she walked to another terminal nearby and logged in again.Damn, same as last night.Terminal 21 still wasn't right.

Returning to terminal 21, she was contemplating what to try next when the word processor opened. Has to be a virus she thought. I better get it offline before we have a major disaster and Scanner Bob has to be called in.

Before she could reach for the network cable in the back of the machine, a sentence appeared in the word processor's writing space.

'Hi Tammy. Do you need some help?'

Tammy froze and re-read the sentence. Then a second sentence appeared.

'You can type a sentence here and I can read it.'

Tammy fell back in her chair, open mouthed and stared at the screen. Bob, it must be Bob, she thought.

She quickly typed.

'Bob, how are you doing this?'

The response was immediate.

'No, Tammy, I'm not Scanner Bob, but I know someone that can help you.'

Tammy sat up straighter in her chair and poised her hands over the keyboard, finally typing again.

'Who are you?'

'A friend that needs your help.'

Tammy closed the word processor and fished around with the mouse for the virus scan icon. Before she could find it, the word processor opened once again with a new sentence.

'Look at the accounts screen Tammy and tell me what you see.'

She hesitated and the same line came up again. Minimizing the word processor to see the accounts window beneath, she watched as the numbers in the visible accounts adjusted themselves. Jumping up, she ran to the other terminal she'd left on and checked. An exact match.

Returning to terminal 21 she saw the minimized word processor had re-opened with a new sentence.

'I need you to help me.'

Tammy quickly re-typed her first question.

'Who are you?'

This time the response was delayed.

'Someone that will take you on a very dangerous journey.'

Chapter 4

Waverly Hill had been many things in its lifetime. Originally constructed of wood in 1910 on 150 acres, high on a hill, north of Los Angeles, the building was used to care for the growing number of tuberculosis patients in southern California. Several thousand deaths and two years later it was decided a more substantial and bigger building was needed. A brick and stone, four floor, north and south wing hospital was built.

A central tower between the north and south wings of the main construction that extended two floors above the bottom four floors combined with a red brick façade lent a collegiate air to the construction. Something much less ominous than the hospital's real purpose.

With 400 patient rooms, numerous nursing stations, supply rooms, full kitchen, surgery theaters, chapel, and crematorium, the sanatorium was prepared to deal with most of the contingencies involved in the long road to a smothering death from Tuberculosis.

From TB sanatorium to convalescence care home for the elderly, Waverly Hill continued to thrive up through the fifties and languished into the sixties.

Abandoned and neglected, Waverly and the surrounding property were slated for conversion to a prison for minimum security prisoners in the eighties. Community outcry and complaints to the mayor's office bankrupt the owner and left Waverly Hill to languish again as ivy, weeds and rats became its principle inhabitants.

The good reverend Hammer thought the world's largest cross would give nice competition to Brazil and their benevolent Christ statue. The property was perfectly placed and would make the cross, complete with spot lights and an eight million dollar souvenir shop, a beacon of hope for the decadent of Beverly Hills and Hollywood.

Again, public protest had sent the good reverend packing.

When Theodora Elizabeth Miller sat in the debris strewn circle drive in the back of her Rolls Royce, her personal doctor and the family lawyer in attendance, they were both sure they'd seen the trace of a tear from her one good eye.

'Buy it,' was all she'd barked.

As they drove away she listened to Rudolph go on about the history of the place.

Rumor has it that more than sixty thousand people have died behind the tranquil brick façade of Waverly hill. One part of the building is known as the 'body' chute. A five hundred foot tunnel that starts at the first floor and winds down to the base of the main hill where the crematorium sits. People were dieing so quickly, so goes the rumor, that bodies were greased up and slid down the tunnel where they were picked up by a funeral home hearse or, in the case of those not claimed by family, cremated immediately. One account has a line of more than one hundred vehicles that included ambulances, hearses, pickups – anything you could carry a body in, waiting at the foot of the hill.

Today, local folklore claims Waverly is one of the most active, paranormal sites in the country. That rumor was reinforced when a parapsychology group from the University of Michigan left the grounds shortly after setting up their equipment for a night watch. Seems they also abandoned their equipment in place, refusing to return and collect it.

Later, as a geriatrics care center for the elderly, unconfirmed reports of six murders carried out by a self appointed angel of death are still floating around.

Structurally, very sound, the façade has held up surprisingly well. At twenty million, a steal for the property alone. Currently being considered by the registry of historical buildings, tearing it down is not a possibility. However, some modifications will be allowed.

Our architects estimate ten million to execute. A little high but he guarantees delivery in six months. The plan includes two new elevators – a private one for your use that will go only to your floor – the fourth. The tower will be opened and a roof garden installed. Floor one and two will be restored as they were when the hospital was originally built. The surgical theater section on the third floor will be converted to a suit of clean rooms and apartments for staff.

"One thing though. I see here you want the crematorium restored and functional. Is that correct?"

"That's what it says," the old hag barked.

"We'll need a special permit for that and we'll have to convert to natural gas. Of course, you understand, you will not really be licensed to cremate bodies."

"Just do it." With that Theodora, or Theda, as those that worked around her were allowed to call her, slumped against the armrest of the car, lost in the huge back seat of the Rolls, her dry, twisted body showed its years. Her doctor immediately checked her pulse and smiled slightly when, as if by a miracle, he found one.

*****

Tammy arrived at the apartment in a foul mood again. The slob of a boyfriend decided he was not at fault. The only thing he could come up with was someone else.

"Who is it," he demanded, beer bottle in hand as he leaned in the kitchen doorway.

Tammy just looked up from the pot of spaghetti sauce she was stirring.

"I said who the hell is it? Who's got you all riled up?" Bruce actually swayed a little. Tammy wasn't sure if it was from anger or too many beers.

"No one you idiot. It's just work," she said as she continued to stir.

"I don't believe you. I know you Tam. You've never brought work home before." With that he turned and stomped off to stew in front of ESPN on the television.

After a silent meal, Bruce, or Brutus as Tammy liked to call him when he was being so traitorous, announced he was going downtown to meet the guys and not to wait up for him.

Fine she thought. Maybe I can get some peace and quiet. Try to investigate what kind of virus I came across today.

After clearing the dishes, Tammy took a shower, reveling in the shampoo bubbles and hot water. Grabbing a clean pair ofsloppy boyfriend'sboxers, the ones with the hearts he refused to wear, and a cut-off Tee, she padded into the kitchen, her long, red hair combed out wet to fall along her back.

Setting her laptop on the kitchen table, she proceeded to boot up. A beer at hand she clicked on her browser to start searching.

'Hi Tammy.'

The message came from one of her chat programs. More precisely, one she hadn't logged into. At the same time she wondered who knew her name was Tammy. Aside fromBrutus, she kept her personal information pretty much locked away with her circle of chat friends.

She decided answering couldn't hurt.

'Hi, back at you.'

The name at the top of the chat box was simply XOXOXOXO which rang no bells.

'You left me this morning.'

A chill ran up her spine. How the hell?

'Will you help me Tammy?'

Her response was immediate.

'Who the hell are you, and why the hell would I help you?'

'I can't say right now who I am, but I can tell you it's in your best interest to help me.'

'Why?'

'I can't say right now.'

Anger overcame any wonder she might have had and she quickly clicked the chat box closed and logged out of the chat program. Another message appeared immediately through a different chat program.

'Look, Tammy, I'm not bad. Yes, what I need could be dangerous, but you could learn a lot along the way.'

Tammy pushed back from the table practically tipping the chair over and in two strides, stopped in front of the refrigerator to scrutinize her wireless router sitting on top.

Small red lights blinked, rhythmically, as the polling signal bounced back and fourth between the laptop and the router. A small green power light that turned red when problems were at hand shined bright green.

Returning to her laptop she stood and stared at the open chat box.

Picking up her beer, she walked into the living room and flipped on the television. Grabbing the cable control she was amazed when a blue box covered the television's picture with a message, just like the ones the cable company sent their bills out with. This one was different though.

'Tammy. I don't want to upset you, but there are not many places I can't find you. Come back and talk to me. Please.'

Clicking off the cable box and television, Tammy ran to the bedroom she shared with Bruce, closed the door with a slam and, not finding a way to lock the old skeleton key lock, slid a chair under the doorknob.

What the hell is going on she wondered. Her technical background told her that it was a stretch but not impossible to locate both the computer and cable box through her contract information.

What she couldn't figure out was why someone at the cable company would be trying to chat with her. Much less asking for help and talking about a dangerous journey.

Finding her purse, she dug around for her cell phone to call Bruce and beg him to come back. She stopped cold when she saw the 'New Message' box with '1 New Message' printed in it.

Her thumb shook as she clicked through the menus and found the message.

'Tammy. Please. Only you can help.'

Tammy threw the phone as hard as she could against the door and watched it shatter and fall. Sobbing, she fell on the bed and curled into a small ball on top of the covers.

Who is this guy, or person, or whatever, she wondered. Is this a new form of stalking? An electronic stalker?

She fell into a fitful sleep and Bruce thought his leaving must have really gotten to her when he found the light on in the kitchen, laptop open with her homepage up, and the bedroom door barred.

Kicking off his shoes he fell back on the couch.

*****

Linda looked at the box again. The envelope was beside it and she was perched on her pillows, naked from the shower, heel tucked between her thighs, rubbing her hair with a towel.

It had been a long Sunday at work that had accomplished absolutely nothing. The techie brigade had watched as the memory block learned how to float around instead of locking into one place. When they were able to do a memory dump, which was seldom, all they found was a string of X's and O's. XOXOXOXO.

"Kiss and a hug," Tom speculated.

All scans, binary dumps and machine code inspections, turned up the same kiss and hug.

One of the techies labeled it the kissing ghost.

Going through every cell phone and PDA they could lay their hands on, turned up the same kissing ghost message. Strings of them.

Checking the main switchboard, an electronic monstrosity, that controlled all communications into and out of the office, including network and internet, they discovered the kissing ghost lurking there too.

Walking around the office, lost in thought, Tom suddenly jumped and yelled for all telephones to be unplugged.

"All our phones are digital. It wouldn't be much of a jump to take the logic chip in one, bypass the LCD display, and listen to every word we say," he exclaimed urgently.

Finally, at ten in the evening, the techies had been called together for a quick discussion group before going home.

"As far as we can tell, at this point, this thing has circled the globe. There is no point of origin. Just a constant presence. Any ideas?"

After a long silence one of the new nerds dared raise her hand.

"Yes, Debbie? By the way, no need to raise your hand, just jump right in."

"Well, I can't come up with a computer definition or identify what it does technically, but I have found a word for what I think it is."

Everyone waited while Debbie pulled up a dictionary and opened it on her lap.

"Noun. Being or existence; something that exists independently; the basic essential nature of something; an abstraction or archetypal conception. An Entity."

Tom contemplated Debbie's English lesson, frowned and said, "Sounds like as good a place as any to hang our hat. The Entity it is then."

Nothing else useful came from the meeting but Tom pulled Linda aside before they left.

"Debbie's, onto something. This seems to be a learning code with no home base. Something that exists only in memory block parking spaces. Something that may not have spread around the globe. It may simply exist everywhere."

"Kind of like air or water, right?"

"Think more like killer bacteria and the CDC," Tom replied.

Linda came back from her thoughts and reached for the black satin covered box. Suddenly she could smell it. She hadn't noticed before. It was Michael. His cologne. He probably picked it up after shaving, she thought.

Her eyes closed as she felt his hand on her arm. A breath on her neck made her tilt her head. Her nipples swelled as she thought she heard a whisper in her ear.I love you, Woo, all of you.

Her eyes came open slowly as the dream faded. With her thumb she shoved the box lid up to find what she feared, and hoped, was inside.

It was beautiful. Square cut, the light from her nightstand caused a sparkle of color throughout the clear, blue tinted diamond. The setting was simple. White gold or platinum.

Delicately, Linda plucked the ring from its white satin resting place and held it close enough her eyes crossed slightly. Kissing the top of the stone, she slowly slipped it on the ring finger of her left hand.

Picking up the envelope, she walked to her dresser mirror and tucked it under the edge of the frame, against the glass.I can't right now Michael. I'll read it later.

Walking back to the bed, turning it down, her naked body slid between the sheets. Turning the light off on the nightstand, her left hand moved slowly down the front of her body. Finding its destination, her eyes closed and she whispered, 'Yes, Michael. Yes, I'll marry you.'

Plagued with unpleasant naggings, Linda found Michael waiting for her as she dreamed of chop sticks, Leo's diner, summer sunsets and love.

Chapter 5

CNN - Both candidates continue at a frantic pace as the campaign countdown clock ticks. Democratic presidential hopeful, Arthur Wright, was spotted this morning making an impromptu stop at a street corner in Manhattan. Coming across a long line of mothers pushing empty baby carriages outside city hall in protest of Republican mayor, Lisa Brach's, recent reduction in local government financial support of public daycare for city government workers, Richards actually borrowed a carriage from one of the mothers and joined the protest for ten minutes. Republican hopeful, Kerry Richards, drove home his environmental point today when he was seen at a local Ford dealership in Henderson, Kentucky, purchasing a Ford hybrid for his niece. While some criticized his apparent brand favoritism, he pointed out that you couldn't argue with the fact that Ford's hybrid offering was the most environmentally friendly American car available. And besides, they have a twelve hundred dollar rebate.

*****

Gerald studied the screen once more. The Hag said she wanted to start this week. The doctor said they had to. If not, Mrs. Miller might not be around to enjoy the fruits of her labor. Rudolph pointed out that an incomplete project would mean no bonus.

He felt exhausted. It had been a year since their last victim and endless weeks of twenty hour days. Pushing back from the computer, he stretched in his chair, fishing in his pocket for a small blue pill that would keep him going.

Walking to a white tile covered wall with a stainless steel door and keypad, he punched in a series of numbers and waited for the click.