The Spirit Phone by Unknown

Author:Unknown
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 0000000000000
Published: 2022-12-16T16:48:19+00:00

“Y ou’re looking haggard, Crowley,” said Tesla. “Why don’t you rest for a couple of hours first?”

“No, I’m fine, old fellow. Thank you,” said Crowley, though he was pale with dark circles under his eyes. “Let’s go out for a bite to eat after I tell my story. That’ll fix me up. And let’s get Donnelly to join us.”

“I’ll telephone him later,” said Stern. “So?”

“That young fellow had a psychic block put on him,” began Crowley. “Most of the information I obtained consists of things he doesn’t consciously remember. It even partially prevents him from talking about what little he does recall.”

“Which would partly explain his rather quiet, preoccupied nature,” said Stern. “Though he also seems to have been designed that way, so to speak.”

“We must assume he is connected, however unwittingly, with this apparent cult of the Ferox,” said Tesla. “We know little about them, but why would they allow him to live a relatively normal life?”

“Unknown,” said Crowley. “I also don’t know who blocked his conscious memory, or how, but it was bloody hard getting in there. What I picked up wasn’t clear or complete, but this is what I learned:

“The boy was born and grew up in some kind of…I don’t know what to call it. A facility. A fort. A compound. Perhaps a half dozen long wooden buildings, like army barracks, and a few smaller buildings. All fenced around. And something about the way the fence is designed makes it visually blend in with its surroundings.”

“You mean the compound is invisible?” asked Tesla.

“Not quite invisible. Just somehow very hard to see unless you’re looking carefully. I guess if you were far away enough, you wouldn’t know there was a fence or any buildings there.”

“Magick-with-a-k?” asked Stern.

“Hard to say,” said Crowley. “It was a fragmentary perception. I got no magickal or psychic impression.”

Stern nodded. “And you also detected people?”

“Yes. As we’ve surmised, the boy and the two men were all born as duplicates of one another. All three of them lived in this place, and not only them. I saw dozens of them. They were of three distinct age groups: twelve or thirteen, just under thirty, and about forty.”

“All identical except for their ages?”

“Yes,” answered Crowley. “They wore some kind of uniform. Gray coveralls. On the left breast was embroidered a letter and a number, by which they would call each other. Michael Crane was called Q-75. He was in the youngest group. He was deeply attached to an older duplicate called P-67, in the middle group. They all referred to each other as brothers, but these two had a special bond.

“They ate meals together in a sort of mess hall, like in the army. Everything was regimented, with scheduled bedtimes and risings, group exercises. And some kind of…indoctrination. Something utopian, with the air of a revival meeting. And basic education: the three Rs plus some natural science classes. The younger ones, that is. The two older groups had already completed the courses. No literature, history, art, nothing like that.

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