The Soul Continuum (The Soul Archives) by Simon West-Bulford

Author:Simon West-Bulford [West-Bulford, Simon]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Science Fiction, Adventure, Science Fiction & Fantasy
ISBN: 9781605426471
Amazon: B014WWCHPM
Publisher: Medallion Press
Published: 2015-09-14T12:00:00+00:00

THREE

I spend the next day tidying away paperwork and gathering some additional research material for the new project. I have not even looked at Withering’s mysterious crystalline stone since our discussion in his office. Only a single day has passed since I received it, and I already regret taking on the project. It is not that I am uninterested in finding out what it is and why it has the professor so intrigued; rather, it is because of one word he made reference to: superstition. There is something wrong with that pulsing stone. Aside from its startling luminescent properties, there are too many queer factors surrounding its presence. Certain sensations and thoughts have dogged me since I placed it in my room at the gentlemen’s club: the air seems a little colder, the shadows a little darker, and I cannot shake the uncanny notion that the stone is simply . . . wrong. That it should not exist.

This morning before breakfast, I opened the curtains wider and turned up the heating, but the sense of foreboding that stalked me throughout the night still clung to me, and as I passed the drawer containing the stone on my way out, I even experienced a moment of lightheadedness. It irritates me greatly that I have allowed Withering’s words to affect my physical state; I thought myself immune to such ridiculous auto-suggestion, but it seems I am not.

At first it was an unsettled stomach stopping me from eating a cooked breakfast, but later I felt so nauseated I could not even face lunch, and well into the evening when I should have been looking forward to drinks and cigars in the lounge of the club with some of the other fellows, the thought of a meal beforehand left me cold. My hope is that when Edith and I begin our spectrographic tests on the material tomorrow, the science will expel these ridiculous feelings. I comfort myself with that thought before heading into the lounge.

The club lounge is open to the village residents and in recent years has become their cozy local. They have become accustomed to mixing with fellows of the university, often jovially quizzing us about what diabolical theories we might be trying to dream up while they are sweating through an honest day’s work. Any opportunity for good-natured ridicule of the scientific community is met with great gusto, so while I nearly pass out beside the fireplace, they are more interested in jest than employing any sympathy, believing it to be a moment of clumsiness rather than a swoon.

It is not a welcome moment, and now, coming around from my temporary weakness, I am as dazed as I am embarrassed.

“Good heavens, Brighty, did you see your life flash before you?”

The words are muffled, as though they come from the bottom of a pond. The faces are swimming, too, and it takes me several confused moments to register the burning in my throat; I think I may have suffered some reflux. Several

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