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  Abby described the house, or as much as she had seen of it in the dark: the two docents; the makeup of the crowd; and her informal experiments when she’d been alone upstairs. Along the way she managed to clean her plate. “All in all, it’s a nice colonial house, in pretty fair condition, at least as far as I could tell, but nobody I ‘know’”—she made air quotes—“has lived there, or even worked on the construction.”

  “But would you be able to tell, unless one of the carpenters cut his hand off or a roofer fell off the roof?”

  “Good point, if I need an intense experience on their end to be able to feel it now. But the woman who first lived in the house had three children in short order. From what I hear, childbirth can be pretty intense, even if you’re happy about the outcome. She died young, although I don’t know if it was in childbirth. So if she didn’t leave any trace that I could pick up, I’m going to have to assume we’re not related. Is that like proving a negative? If I don’t feel them, they’re not there? That doesn’t work if they led simple happy lives and died in their sleep. Which is the norm?”

  “Abby, I am not the right person to ask. What about the two women who were guiding the tour—did they believe they had seen or heard someone in the house?” Ned asked.

  “I think they did. I didn’t get their credentials, but I think they were more than local members of the nonprofit trying to save the place. It sounded to me like they’d been doing this for a while. They had what they believed was evidence for that house, but it was pretty fuzzy, and anyway, that could be faked, for the sake of a good story. But I think they were honest.”

  “You didn’t talk to them?”

  “No, because there were still other people around, and there was no way to have a private conversation. I’ve got the brochure—I can look them up and maybe we can get together at some later date, if we think it’s worth it. Oh, and to answer your question, I’m not sure either of them has actually seen any spirits in that house. It was the electronic devices—cameras, recorders—that captured the appearances, and they were noticed only after the fact when somebody looked at the recordings. Does that mean the machines are more sensitive than the humans?”

  “Interesting,” Ned commented. He hesitated before saying, “Maybe the machines simply have a broader spectrum for reception.”

  “Aural and visual?” Abby asked.

  “Don’t jump all over me, Abby—I have no idea. You can look—”

  Abby interrupted him, fast. “If you tell me to look up one more thing, I will not be responsible for my actions. I’m tired of reading about these things, when I’m living them, and nothing I read matches what has happened to me. Do you get that?”

  Ned looked contrite. “Yes. I’m sorry. I know it’s not easy for you, but I don’t know any other way to approach it.”

  “Yeah, yeah, you’re a scientist, and that’s what you do. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

  Ned paused for a few moments, and Abby managed to rein in her emotions. Where had that outburst come from? How could she get angry at other people—particularly Ned—just because they didn’t feel all this as strongly as she did, or more likely, they didn’t feel any of it at all? “Sorry,” she said, still not quite sure what she was apologizing for.

  Ned wisely changed topics. “If you’ve finished with your story, there’s another idea I want to run by you.”

  “Is there dessert?” Abby asked.

  “Of course,” he said, smiling.

  “Then dish up and fire away.”

  When they had store-bought but sinfully decadent salted caramel chocolate chunk cookies in hand, Ned began, “Are you familiar with the term ‘epigenetics’?”

  “I can’t say that I am. What is it?”

  “I know you know what genes are. The relatively new science of epigenetics looks at variations in how a gene responds to outside factors. If a trait is altered by some external event, it may or may not become hereditary—that is, passed on after the changes.”

  “Wow, that sounds right up our alley! You say this is new science?”

  “Fairly. It’s a trendy topic these days, so there’s research going on. What’s interesting is that the theory holds that the event doesn’t change the gene itself, only the way the gene acts. Think of it this way: You have an egg, which starts out pretty simple—a single cell. Then it’s fertilized and it starts dividing. The divided or daughter cells are all the same at the beginning, but they become all sorts of differentiated cells, from muscle to brain cells to toenails. Some genes are activated in one way, while others are turned off. But scientists are still struggling to figure out how that happens.”

  Abby sat up straighter. “Obviously this has been going on for a long time. It’s only now that researchers are looking at how and why this happens?”

  “Yes and no. But let me give you another example. Kids grow up, and they go through a series of predictable stages, okay? But if there are outside influences from the environment and culture, including family, that are significant enough, the success or the timing of these stages may be changed, since each one depends on the stage before. Look, I don’t want to overload you with a lot of the details. Let’s just say it’s a research subset that’s very much in flux. There are some fascinating implications, and an increased awareness of how all this works could do a lot of good—even in a simple way, say, by changing diet. It’s been shown to work for rats.”

  “I . . . don’t know what to say. Why don’t I know more about this?”

  “Because most people don’t, and you’ve been kind of busy with other things, and you’re not a scientist. Should I stop giving you excuses now? But before I do, I should tell you that there are some recent studies that suggest that something that happened several generations back up the line might have had an impact on your personality now. Physiologically, I mean. And this has nothing, or very little, to do with the quality of mothering along the way, so don’t get sidetracked by the whole nature versus nurture argument. Anyway, it used to be that scientists thought that cell differentiation and development happened in the womb, but now they’ve found that DNA changes can occur as late as adulthood—and can be passed on. Scientists have been able to change the fur color of adult mice, who have then passed the new color on to their offspring, and it breeds true—that is, it lasts. And here’s something that may be relevant to your own experience, maybe indirectly: it has been suggested that traumatic experiences can leave scars on the DNA, at a molecular level, so if your great-grandparents suffered some great tragedy, those experiences are built into the DNA and passed down. Sound familiar?”

  “Kind of. You’re saying that if my great-grandmother suffered a traumatic loss, that might give me an inherited ability to recognize that kind of response?”

  “Maybe. Much of this is still speculative, and I don’t want you to make too much of it yet, but it certainly is suggestive.”

  “Have you—or your company—done any work on this?”

  “No. Most of our applications have been practical. Our research division is pretty small, but it’s why I know about epigenetics—we all follow the new literature on a wide range of subjects.”

  “Can you or should you be working on it?” Abby asked.

  “I think so. Actually I’ve got the perfect setup. I already have the staff and the facilities in place, and it’s a legitimate research topic. In the near term there’s no practical application in sight, but that’s true of a lot of scientific research. And you know I’m not in this simply to make money. What do you think?”

  Abby chewed slowly on her cookie, trying to decide what she did think. It sounded like a very promising thread, given her own experiences, as Ned had pointed out. And he was right: he was the ideal person to look into the subject, without tipping his hand about the paranormal aspects of it, which was quite possibly a good thing. It could harm his professional and corporate credibility if it was known that he was looking at fringe subjects. But they were running in so many different dir
ections at the moment!

  She finished her cookie. Finally she said, “Ned, please don’t take this the wrong way. I think it’s a perfect research subject for you and your company. But can we put this idea on the back burner for a bit? I know it sounds promising, but we seem to be looking at all sorts of things, all over the map, and it’s exhausting. I think you and I need a longer-term strategy, either singly or together. You can look at the science side, but what I hope to do requires more people—I hate to call them subjects, because that’s so impersonal, and this is a very personal experience for people. But to use your terms, our sample size is too small, and I haven’t figured out how to identify and bring in more people who share this ability. Can you see that?”

  He looked disappointed. “I can, and I know what you mean. We’ve already wondered if we’re trying to do too much, too fast. But can I at least start the research on what’s being published in epigenetics? Read the papers that have been released? Talk to some people? It may turn out that it will be easier to start this now, while it will take you some time to recruit people you can actually talk to.”

  “True. But I still need some time to process all the information we’ve collected already. I feel kind of like a rat in a maze, bumbling around and making false starts, then having to back up and change direction. And don’t tell me we need a vacation—we just took one, and look how that turned out.”

  “Not exactly restful, I’ll agree.”

  “Ned, I don’t mean to rain on your parade. I know you’re excited about this idea, but we can’t do everything at once. We’re only two people. And if I read too much more, my head will explode.”

  “Can I do anything to help you, on your side?”

  “Sweet of you to offer, Ned, but unless you can come up with a discreet way to recruit psychics, I don’t think so. Well, you can bail me out of jail if I get arrested for wandering around and touching strangers. Is that assault, do you think?”

  “Maybe. But in statistical terms, I don’t think you’d identify enough people to outweigh the risk. We’ll have to come up with something better than that.”

  “Good idea. I can’t see me wandering around in public pawing people, even for a good cause.”

  “If you could wish this away, would you?” Ned asked, looking down on his empty plate rather than at Abby.

  Abby answered carefully. “I . . . don’t know. It’s not like the measles or something like that—an illness that makes you feel lousy, but when it goes away you just go back to normal and forget about it. I don’t think I could forget so easily. I’d always wonder, what if we’d pushed on until we understood it? Or wonder if it would suddenly rear up again in me, in some worse way. I don’t want to live like that.”

  “Then we’ll try to understand it, but you can set the pace. Tell me if I’m pushing too hard.”

  “Thank you. I think I’m ready for bed—it’s been a busy day.”

  “You want company?”

  “Of course I do, idiot. What we’ve got is one of the biggest pluses of this paranormal thing, and I don’t want to waste it.”

  “Good. Neither do I.”

  Chapter 24

  Abby woke up Saturday morning feeling anxious, but it took her a few moments to remember why: Kevin’s test was today. Abby versus the MEG machine. Abby had told Ned that she wanted to understand all the psychic stuff that had been invading her life for a while now, but she had mixed feelings about pinpointing a physical source within her head that would explain it. Why was that? she wondered. If she was honest with herself, she really was ambivalent about the ability. It was interesting, and occasionally kind of cool, to see her long-dead ancestors, but her life had been much simpler before all of it had started.

  If it was possible to cut it out, or zap it out, or medicate it out, would she? That was tempting, but it seemed dishonest. And there was no way to stuff the genie back into the lamp: too many people knew now. There was Ned, of course, and Ellie, and Ned’s mother and her own mother, and Leslie, and Kevin, and Christine. They all seemed to think that what she was experiencing was real, even if they couldn’t see it. How would she explain to all of them that she wanted to cancel out whatever it was? She’d brought them in, and she couldn’t just say, “Sorry, never mind.”

  She heard Ned on the stairs, and then he came into the bedroom and dropped down on the bed next to her.

  “You look cheerful,” she told him.

  “Why shouldn’t I? It’s Saturday, and we’re meeting with Kevin today. And MEG.”

  “I know. Can you walk me through what’s going to happen?”

  “Kevin’s really excited about this. Of course, whether that’s because he gets to play with a very large, very expensive new toy or because he’s actually interested in psychic phenomena is not clear, but I’m not going to quibble. So, Kevin will meet us at his friend’s lab, which is up Route 128 past Waltham. Said friend will be there to show Kevin how to turn things on and off, and he’ll probably have to stay and watch until we’re done.”

  And what on earth would that friend think they were doing? “You explained how this machine works, but what’s it actually look like? And where does the person fit?”

  “Picture a fair-sized dentist’s chair with a monster squarish cabbage sitting on top. Or maybe a turnip—it’s smooth. At the bottom of the turnip there’s a place just big enough for a human head. It’s called a helmet, and it’s lined with SQUIDs.”

  “Squid? You’re kidding.”

  “No, I’m not. SQUID stands for superconducting quantum interference devices.”

  “Which means exactly nothing to me. So the test dummy—me—sits with the helmet lined with squids. Then what?”

  “The SQUIDs look for magnetic fields emitted within your head. In case you’re wondering, the magnetic fields for cortical activity are measured in femtoteslas.”

  “You have got to be kidding,” Abby said.

  “Sorry, I’m not, but there won’t be a quiz afterward. Basically, inside your brain certain neurons line up perpendicular to the cortical surface, and that creates measurable magnetic fields. If the neurons are aligned right, they project their magnetic fields outside the head, so they can be measured. But one of the drawbacks is that we still can’t measure what goes on deep inside, just the fields that are generated closer to the surface. So we’ve got to hope we find a signal there, but there are no guarantees.”

  “Got it,” Abby said. “Or close enough. So if Kevin doesn’t get any results today, we come home and wait for the science to catch up?”

  “That’s oversimplified, but more or less true. But there has been some success using MEG to identify the primary auditory, somatosensory and motor areas, and for localizing brain responses to auditory and visual stimuli. It’s been used in analyzing schizophrenia, Alzheimer’s, alcoholism and more. Even epilepsy.”

  Abby held up one hand. “Okay, I get the general picture. Parts of the brain generate signals that this MEG can record. So how am I supposed to call up a ghost to see which part of my brain lights up?”

  “That’s kind of getting ahead of things. Kevin will look at your brain, by way of the SQUIDs, and establish a baseline reading. Then he’ll give it certain stimuli, and record what happens. He’ll do the same to me. Then he’ll look for readings that are emerging from comparable locations. Then he’ll compare what he finds in us with what standard maps have been developed, although they’re still pretty sketchy. But maybe when he’s done he’ll have a better idea where what we see or experience is coming from.”

  “Or being recognized by. He’s not assuming it’s either incoming or outgoing, he is?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “If we’re the ones generating these images, sounds and so on, then the magnetic fields should be coming from the inside out. If there really is something outside of ourselves, that most people can’t see, wouldn’t the brain’s reaction be different?”

  “That’s a good point. I’ll have to talk to Kevin about t
hat, and see if there’s any way to differentiate between the two phenomena.”

  “One last point: if he doesn’t find anything definitive, do we get a do-over?”

  “You mean, can he score more lab time with MEG? I’m not sure. This equipment, and time using it, are both very expensive. Beyond even his wallet. So he’d have to call in favors from friends and colleagues, which is what he’s done for this round.”

  “So no pressure at all, right? We’d better hope we find something this time around, or we’ll have to rethink our experimental strategy.”

  “Unfortunately, that’s it exactly.”

  “Well, we won’t have lost any ground.”

  Ned looked at her more closely. “Abby, are you having second thoughts about the whole MEG thing?”

  Abby sat up and leaned against the headboard. “I don’t know. I know I’m the one who’s been pushing for answers, but now I don’t know what I want to hear, or what I want to do about it. Look, even if we cancel on Kevin, who’s doing us a huge favor, it won’t make it go away, will it?”

  “I don’t think so, Abby. You can stifle it—look at me. I’ve been doing it for years. But you’ll always know it’s there lurking, and who knows what long-term effects there might be? Or when it might pop out again and surprise you?”

  “I know. And I’m trusting you as the scientist here to make sense of whatever Kevin and MEG find. But what if it turns out to be a brain tumor, or something like epilepsy? Does epilepsy show up on MEG scans?”

  “Abby,” Ned said patiently, “I can’t answer you. I’ve been looking at the literature, and there’s precious little science involved in a lot of the research, and no consistent opinion about the origins of psychic phenomena in the brain. There is, however, some very entertaining balderdash published in the name of science. I found one article that said, and I quote, people of psychic predisposition are likely to be female, left-handed, hypopigmented—which means very little skin color—disposed to a nonconventional sexual orientation, and one offspring of a multiple birth. And I’m not finished: he or she might have developmental learning or speech disorders, low body temperature, low blood pressure and chronic sinusitis. And this writer was serious. Does any of that sound like you?”