Playtime by Bart Hopkins Jr

Author:Bart Hopkins Jr. [Bart Hopkins Jr.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2014-01-12T08:00:00+00:00

Chapter 23

There is a boatload and most of it is crackpot stuff. That is his first impression after climbing on board the Net train and leaving the station. There are bright lights up the kazoo. Wise explanations of the suffering of the everyday. Telepathy. Reincarnation. He feels like he has stepped into a time machine and travelled backwards a thousand years. He doesn't even want to think what he would find under the time travel link.

There are international organizations, a pecking order of gurus to choose from. He should have known. People love pecking orders, abhor vacuums. Explanations seem to focus on the physical life as a training ground, where we work through mistakes and learn. That is the most common explanation for reincarnation. Basically, you keep coming back until you have gotten it right. That allows for a hierarchy of souls to be around. Some are old and almost have completed their learning process. Some are young with a long way to go. He wonders where a stone killer fits in. Where evil fits in. The favorite analogy seems to be that of a river where we are the individual drops, joining and leaving the river as it flows to the great sea. The essence of the drops is the same as that of the whole.

It all makes him want to puke. Humans have a talent, he thinks, that ability to stand aside from experience and talk about it. The thing is that some experiences, like those he had been thinking about the other day, the flow of experience while surfing or climbing mountain walls, didn't lend themselves that well to the talk. The very act of talking about these experiences was a contradiction. The memorable and wonderful thing about them was how the distance between you and everything else dissolved as you became immersed in the acts. When you talked about them, you necessarily brought the distance back and highlighted it.

It was the same with the light and the tunnel. Here he'd had this absolutely unique thing happen to him, something unlike anything he'd ever experienced, and these people out on the web, thousands of them, apparently, were on it from all sides like jackals, ripping it or something like it into a thousand small pieces that they could dissect and digest, and in the process making the entire deal unrecognizable. He sighs. He is a believer in science, but sometimes you can analyze things too much.

Though you couldn't call this science. The few scientists involved relegated this stuff to the dust bin of brain hallucinations brought on by lack of oxygen to certain brain regions when the brain was shutting down.

Blaine gets up from the machine, stretches, shuts it off. He doesn't know, really, what he had hoped to find, but whatever it was, this isn't it.

What he should be finding is Renee's killer.

He thinks about what he knows so far, and where he can go from here. Maybe somebody around her apartment area would know something. The police had her purse and the stuff in it, so they had her phone and addresses and numbers.

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