The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1408 by Angharad Copyright © 2011 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

After lunch, Stephanie went back home to see how her kitchen floor was progressing, she promised to call back if she needed to talk. I was still as confused as ever about my experiences in dreamland–were they as Stephanie suggested, merely my different personality components sorting themselves out and dealing with my own guilt and needs about the children? Or was there something else going on? We were no wiser about the source of the energy and the fact that Trish once upset the telly by throwing energy at it showed it could be manifest.

I had a little while before I needed to collect the girls so I contacted the physics department at the university. I eventually got through to a post grad student who understood that I wanted to measure something if it was possible.

“What are you wanting to measure?”

“Look, this is rather difficult but I need you to take it on trust that what I’m going to tell you happens, and this needs to be done in confidence.”

“Can’t think you’re going to tell me anything new–we do all sorts of tests here every year.”

“Okay, I seem to be able to produce enough energy at will to blow a television.”

“Okay, that’s a bit different, where does the energy come from?”

“That was question two after you got some sort of measure on things.”

“And you’re not wearing man-made fabrics and just building up static?”

“No.”

“Can you call by tomorrow at the department–say ten o’clock?”

“Fine–I have to be available for three to collect my children.”

“Oh it won’t take that long.”

“Fine, I’ll be there. Anything I have to wear in terms of clothing?”

“Have you a cotton tee shirt and shorts?”

“Yes.”

“Bring those or wear them.”

“Okay, see you tomorrow.”

So it was that the following day at noon that I had one very unsure physics post grad student calling his professor, who appeared half an hour later.

“These are the readings you’re getting?” asked the professor.

“Yes, Professor Harris.”

“They can’t be–it’s not humanly possible–is she wearing some sort of device?”

“She says not, but obviously I can’t search her.”

“You’re not using any sort of medical device?” he asked me.

“Like what?”

“Pacemaker, things like that?”

“No.”

“You haven’t had breast implants or anything?”

“No, but I am breast feeding a baby.”

“Right, that shouldn’t make any difference.”

I waited for instructions.

They asked me to produce the power while they scanned me. “This machine must be faulty, no one can produce that amount of energy–not in those wavelengths.”

“What’s the problem?”

“The machines are telling us you’re producing microwave energies like the proverbial kitchen machine, only on an industrial scale, but that when Paul(the student) tried to measure its effect against meat, it changed to a higher wavelength and began changing the meat–as if it was being turned back to its live state. That is weird.”

“Could we try it with a live animal–a mouse or something?” asked Paul.

“I’ve got a better idea–Professor, when did you have your prostatectomy done?”

“I beg your pardon,” he looked rather miffed.

“Okay, I scanned your body and it told me you had had surgery there.”

“You scanned my body?”

“Yes.”

“What with?”

“I just visualise it and it shows me where things have happened or are happening. Your prostate still has cancer cells, your femur looks much better since the hip replacement and your heart is doing okay with the latest stents.”

“Is this some sort of hoax?”

“No, I came because I’m trying to understand something.”

“What reading my medical records?”

“No, I scanned your body.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Please scan this Paul,” I stepped in front of the machine and concentrated on the professor’s prostate and coronary blood vessels, while holding his hands–partly because I wanted him to stay in front of the machine with me.

“Jesus, my chest is on fire,” said the professor sweating profusely, “I don’t think I can take much more.”

“Nearly finished–so shut up.”

“Fuck, that was cold,” he said stepping back.

“You said you were getting too hot so I changed the energy for sorting your prostate.”

“You sorted it?”

“Yeah, you should find it’s back to normal now as is your bladder and urethra. Your sexual dysfunction should be clear and I suspect your wife will be pleased, but do wait until tomorrow–oh you won’t need the Viagra. Your coronary arteries are clear now, but stick to your diet–low fat oh and plenty of exercise.”

The man looked at me in astonishment. “How long have you been able to do this?”

“A couple of years.”

“But this is amazing–you could save thousands of lives.”

“Um–no–been there done that–why should I sacrifice my life for others when I have children at home who need me.”

“It wouldn’t be a sacrifice, just a clinic for those incurable by other methods.”

“Where does the energy come from?”

“According to our machines from you, the main centres being your heart and forehead. But it is so intense the readings go off the scale.” Paul showed the chart to his professor.

“We need to set up experiments–this is potentially the most exciting event in modern science.”

I began moving towards the door, “Um, I don’t think so.”

“You can’t expect me not to want to study this–its potentially so exciting.”

“I can’t do this–it’s too dangerous.”

“We won’t do anything which endangers you–I promise, our machinery is checked regularly.”

“It isn’t your machines that scare me.”

“Surely we don’t scare you?”

“Not personally, but once it gets out my life will be a living hell.”

“We’ll keep your name out of things, Mrs–um–Smith.”

“No, I wanted to know if this energy was measurable–it is. Now before you say anything, please listen carefully. You Professor Harris, if you say one word of this to anyone, it will undo all the healing you’ve received and you will die within the year of cancers deriving from the prostate.

“You, young man,” I addressed Paul, “if you say one word, will find that the clot which has been forming in your leg will throw off an embolism and your life will be in danger. At the moment, I have dispersed it–watch what you’re doing next time you play cricket.”

“You’re threatening us,” said the professor angrily.

“Please, you might be clever but you don’t listen. I won’t do anything except leave here. If you break this confidence, you will undo the healing you’ve received and the original consequences will result–what I’ve done is interfere in the natural disease process to reverse it–it only works as long as you cooperate.”

“But this is so big.”

“Professor, science isn’t ready for this yet–neither are you, or you’d listen.”

“What are you?”

“If I told you you wouldn’t believe me.”

“Try me,” he said grimly.

“What d’you think I am?”

“Some sort of angel–except I don’t believe in goblins and demons and so on.”

“Maybe you need to change your perspective a little.”

“And as long as we keep quiet about this the healing will continue?”

“Yes, you will remain healthy from those conditions for several years, both of you. Oh and Paul, don’t think about taking sodium warfarin and then trying it on–you’ll be dead before it can help.”

“I wish I’d never met you,” he spat.

“If you hadn’t tonight would be your last one. The clot was forming beneath the bruise in your saphenous vein.”

“This is so unfair–the greatest discovery in recent years and we can’t say anything.”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t, I just explained the consequences of what would happen if you did. The energy feels threatened by exposure and returns to its source, undoing the healing it gave.”

“That is scary,” he said.

“If I could give you a tip–concentrate on fusion–you’ll get there in the end, and whoever does will probably get a Nobel prize.”

“Wow–you can foretell the future too?”

“Sometimes; goodbye gentlemen.” I left while they were still floundering. They had some thinking to do, I had loads of my own. I gave one last goodbye to them and the data they’d collected became meaningless–they had no evidence they could use except anecdotal. I, however, had one or two scans generated by the machines–copies of what they’d lost and lots of food for thought.