ODE TO A POWER FAILURE

ODE TO A POWER FAILURE While I will grant that the summer was, annoyingly, warm, and humid, nothing could prepare me for an evening, with no electrical power. I knew that something was wrong, that afternoon, when what should have been a bright, sunny, afternoon, turned as dark as late sun-set. I was just finishing some corrections, of typos, on a piece of fiction, which I had been writing, when I glanced out of my darkening windows, and not only beheld the cruel darkness, of the approaching storm clouds, but I heard the rumble, of thunder, as well. While my weather radio had issued NO storm warnings, even my "powers of observation" told me to shut down ALL of my home electronics. It was a good thing that I did, since, approximately fifteen minutes, after I shut my electronics down, a bolt of lightning "took out", our local transformer (For the second time, this summer.). Since heavy rains followed the lightning, no one, even myself, was much concerned, for the first hour, of the ensuing power failure. No doubt, people were calm, and sensible, at the start, since the sun, although obscured by storm clouds, still sat, high, in the sky. The time, when people began to feel concern, and became irritable, was after the sun set, and a "blanket", as black as midnight, fell over our property. While the rains shifted, between light rain, and full on showers, numerous times, I do believe that it was the heat, and the humidity, which caused the most frustration. When the lightning knocked my favorite radio station off the air, this is when I decided to visit with a neighbor. My hope was to share some polite conversation, while the local utility worked, at restoring electrical service. During the power failure, it was only now that I realized how dependent we had, ALL, become, on electricity. And not just for operating home appliances, either. Nowadays, most homes have elaborate home entertainment centers, with stereo sound, D.V.D., and C.D. players, as well as the home computer, which I am writing this ODE on. When lightning takes out the power, our world comes crashing to a halt. It feels much like the feeling, when a car runs out of gas, and the driver must WALK to a service station. The difference is that, while a driver can buy gas, at any time, when power goes out, customers must WAIT for the utility repairmen, to restore the power. It was during this after-dark time when I came to "meet" some of my neighbors. People whom I, usually, only passed, in the halls. That night, however, I got to know these people better than I, ever, wanted to. Even if in-directly. While the foul weather had even myself in a not-so-great mood, I atleast, held my tongue, when I visited my neighbor. Our other neighbors were not so kind. For more than 90 minutes, my neighbor, and I were "assaulted", by the most profane language I had heard, in years. Normally, when I hear such language, I, simply, leave the area, and let the profane people be profane. Problem was that, while I was, silently, annoyed, at the power loss, the others were, openly, and vocally, profane, about this, and other, topics, which they discussed, in raised, and profane, voices. It was during this time that I continued to think about Bach, Beeethoven, and Louis Armstrong. This and how, once the power was restored, I could place my headphones, on my head, and forget all of the profanity, which I had been exposed to, that evening. While I will mention that the profaners were, verbally, reprimanded, multiple times, these people did not care about the feelings, of others. This is when I was happy that I had made no effort, to know these peopple. To my way of thinking, profanity should be reserved, to those moments, of shock, pain, or injury. The times when people speak out, without thinking. Enduring a nearly two hour, profane, conversation, while awaiting restoration, of electricity, was, almost, more than I could handle. In order not to be considered a "racist", however, I kept my thoughts, to myself, and just ticked off the minutes, until the power was restored. My most profound wish/desire, for the remainder, of the warm months, is that there be no further power failure. Whether by nature (lightning strikes), nor by overloaded circuits (air conditioning, due to excessive heat). On this warm, and humid, night, I have come to know my neighbors far better than I, ever, wanted to. This, un-fortunately, includes a neighhbors daughter, whom I THOUGHT was a polite, young lady. After hearing her profane language, and raised voice, during the power failure, I am glad that I took no steps, to meet this woman, before the power outage. I am left to wonder if the foul weather is really to blame, for such rude behavior, or, could it be, that SOME people just enjoy being profane, at every opportunity?

THE HAUNTING PAST MOVEMENT OF THE BODIES

THE HAUNTING PAST: MOVEMENT OF THE BODIES While Tami and I might have agreed, to aid a dead general, and his comrades, in locating their remains, for Islamic burial, the problem turned out to be far more complicated, than simply asking invasion command where the bodies were being stored. As the spirits, themselves, had informed us, their bodies had been retrieved, from the debris, of one of America's latest "succcesses". A village, bombed to its very foundations. After invasion command had declared "victory", the dead had been removed, from the site, but, not by American invasion forces. No, the bodies had been "recovered", by scavengers, who had come into the debris, searching for anything worth selling. The bodies, of the dead, had been recovered, by these scavengers, and was being transported, for sale, on a "market". A place where, once listed as "martyr's", the soldiers bodies would be auctioned off, to the highest bidder. While Tami and I had agreed to attempt to locate the missing bodies, we agreed that, first, we needed some leads. As even our pilots would point out, "We need a destination, to know which course to set". I would add "We should, also, make a list, of potential sellers, as well as buyers." While Tami and I searched for clues, our pilots received a weeks worth of relaxation. This even as the Brown Agency researched the question of "Who was willing to sell human bodies?" If the question had been "Who was willing to sell living people", the answer would have been much simpler. Even in the 21st century, there are "markets", around the world, where a person may, legally, purchase women, and children. Race/ethnicity made no difference. White, Negro, or Asian. If a buyer had money, then human life could be purchased, as easily as Americans buy home furnishings. What made our task even more difficult was the fact that modern human remains are almost as difficult, to sell, as Egyptian, Roman, Incan, Mayan, and Aztec, mummies are. The market, for the unusual, might be a multi-million dollar business, just as the drug trade is, however, the market, for the unusual, is very EXCLUSIVE. For example: WHO would be STUPID enough to place a sales ad, stating: "For sale. Body of Ramses the Second. Contact Cohens, Bergners, etc, for price quote". No, even Mr. Brown would agree that such sales, of even modern dead, would NOT be advertised, similar to automobiles, stereos, home computers, etc. When the spirit, of Mother Superior, would grace us with her presense, aboard Ghost Ship 2, the nun would make a point of stating "While I am forbidden from naming the actual source, which is selling the remains, I am permitted to suggest that you begin your journey, at the shrine of Cabul". When I would mention "Mother Superior, Cabul is in the middle of the area, where American invasion forces are pounding locals into the ground. The locals HATE Americans, with a passion". When Mother Superior would say "Nonsense. The holy church is NOT a place, of violence". I would state "Well, I am NOT about to suffer enemy fire-power, just to prove you wrong." When Mother Superior would ask "What if the Chairman were to guarantee your safety?" I would say "I would tell the Chairman the same thing I would tell Washington D.C. It is easy to make promises, from a distant location. It is the up-close-and-personal, which is what worries me. While the Chairman is immortal, I am not". This is when Tami would ask Mother Superior "Beyond the question, of exactly WHICH shrine, inside Cabul, we should begin with", I think we should start with the question of "WHOM should we make contact with?" Then, this presents another question. That of "Can we TRUST our contacts?" When Mother Superior would say "Children, one step at a time.". I would add "Then, step ONE must be security. We MUST know who we can trust". Tami would add "Especially in a nation, where America has been blasting villages, into the dust, for sixteen years". All that Mother Superior would say was "I have provided a starting point, for your journey. The remainder of the journey, is up to you." As the nun dissolved, Tami would say "Swell. Any idea how many shrines there are, in Cabul?" I would suggest "If a shrine is like a church, then there may be dozens." When I would add "Too bad the soldiers cannot aid our search", The general, and two lieutenants, would appear, asking "Who says we are forbidden to aid in your search?" When Tami would ask the spirits "Which shrine, in Cabul, are we to start with?" The general would say "While I have visited Cabul, many times, I lived more in the outer area's. In this area, we had our own temples." A lieutenant would say "I grew up in one section, of Cabul, and there were two temples, in my neighborhood." The other lieutenant would correct the man, saying "Use the PAST tense, comrade. Remember, the Americans levelled your neighborhood, in 2014". Then the lieutenant looked at Tami and I, saying "America suspected our people of harboring Taliban forces". When Tami would ask "Did anyone survive?" The lieutenant would say "No one, who was in the area, at the time. Several, of our people, who were not at home, at the time, were rounded up, and taken, for interrogation, by the invasion forces. IF any of these people survived, we have heard nothing, from them, to date." When Tami would ask "What about bootleg liquor, drugs, slaves for hire? Have you heard of any temples, using vice to support the church?" The lieutenants would seem un-easy, with such questions, even as the general would say "There are, always, rumors". When Tami would ask "Any place with MORE rumors, than the others?" The general would mention the name of a temple. The general would caution, though "The way, into the "pit", is NOT through the main doors, of the shrine. The shrine is holy, and only acccepts donations. The holy ones have NO interraction, with the underground activities". When I would ask "Okay, so HOW do WE (indicating Tami and I) get into the place?" All three men would be quick to inform Tami "Women are forbidden. SHE must stay behind." When I would ask "What if I need assistance? I can, barely, manage English. Arabic would "out" me in about five seconds". The general would say "Do not worry. I will have a platoon standing by. If you require assistance, we will be ready". One thing, which had become obvious, and that was the fact that our pilots had accepted the fact that they were conversing, with spirits. It would seem that even the air force retirees were becoming accustomed to, regularly, speaking with the deceased. While the general showed our pilots the route, that we should use, the lieutenants would send out advance scouts. Spirits which would report on conditions, on the ground. When the scouts reported back, the lieutenants, and the general, conversed on which landing zone to use. It would seem that the chosen landing zone was just a patch, of ground. Two weeks, previously, American, saturation, bombing, had wiped out a suspected, Taliban, camp. The general, also, suggested the area since there was present only about two inches, of sand, covering a large deposit, of bedrock. When our pilot asked the general "HOW do we insert, with all of the fire-power, on the ground?" The general would say "I have an idea". By the time G.S.2 was airborne, and headed for the Middle East, the entire ship was on "HIGH ALERT". All weapons were on "Ready Stand By". Thanks to Mr. Browns connections, G.S.2 was, even, loaded with depleted uranium rounds. Like the boss said "I dont mind my agents working for the spirit world, but I would appreciate it if my human personnel were returned, in a single piece." Boy! When the general said he had an idea, to pull ground attention OFF of our insertion, the man was not kidding. The general created something, with so much IMPACT, that no ground personnel even noticed our planes passage. Just as the general predicted, as well, it would take G.S.2's jet exhaust maybe five seconds to clear away the dust, and expose the hard bedrock. After we landed, Tami was about to say "I am going in, as well. If you can do it, so can I". I had to remind my partner "There is NO "womens lib", in this part of the world. Equal Rights do not exist." The general would add "Women neither speak, nor show themselves. It is our way". When Tami would ask "HOW am I supposed to do my job?" I would suggest "Via remote interface, from the plane. This is, after all, American "soil". If you see anything, you want a closer look at, just comm me, and I will investigate it". Even as I departed G.S.2, along with a phantom platoon, I would notice that the general was a man of his word. G.S.2 was "surrounded", by a battallion, of phantom soldiers. My own "team members" did not cease to amaze me, even when we came to a section, of dirt. A soldier would, simply, pass a phantom hand, across the ground, and a hatchway appearred. I had to wonder if invasion command knew of the existance, of such entry points, to the nations underground? Once the hatch was open, my group descended some steps, obviously cut from the rock, to a tunnel. A place, eerily, similar to the indians water tunnels, of North America. While myself, and my "escort", were walking through an ancient tunnel, which had been delivering water, to the area, for thousands of years, back at G.S.2, Tami had plans, of her own. While watching the monitors, and feeling like an "outsider", Tami would remember the first time she had felt this way. Tami was thirteen years old, at the time, and had, just six months before, struck a compromise, with her own mother. While Tami had wanted to be a "modern girl", and "equal", to boys, in every way, mother had sermonized the girl, saying "One of these days, you are going to want to be CLOSE to a boy. A boy, who will want to be "close" to a GIRL." The issue, at hand, had been the length, of Tami's hair. Tami had wanted a short cut, like her brothers. She had noticed that, with short hair, the boys were, never, caught, off-guard, by hair, flying, in the face. Mother had felt that "young ladies" should have atleast torso-length hair. Hair, which Tami hated, since it was, constantly, in her face. Finally, after a friend braided Tami's hair, into a pony tail, and her mother got over the "shock", of seeing her daughter, with her hair pulled back, still draping down her back, just not flowing, mother had agreed to the compromise. Tami could braid her hair, so long as she kept it "feminine". The braid had come in, handy, later, when Tami wanted to know what the local boys "secret" was. The boys, in the neighborhood, had their own secret "something", which they ONLY shared with other boys. Even Tamis best, boy, friend, would not share the "secret". Tami decided to learn the secret, on her own. Since she had yet to develop breasts, Tami found it easy to wrap that pony tail around her head, then top it with a hat. (No one needed to know how much hair was under that hat). Donning her brothers clothes, then digging her nails, into the yard, just enough, Tami set out, for the boys club house, in search of the "secret". At the club house, since she knew better than to speak, she just let the boys think that she was just a shy boy. She just pretended to be one of the boys. That day, while Tami would learn, that the rumors, of the boys, drinking booze, in the club house, were as fake as those plastic posts (which a neighbor insisted were real, wrought, iron), she did find out what the secret was. It was a stack, of Playboy, Penthouse, and other, mens magazines. The very magazines, which wifes had thrown out, claiming that husbands did not need such "filth", in this, Christian, community. It would seem that, while the wives were tying the magazines, in bundles, their sons were watching. What the boys could not understand was the reason why their mothers made such a "fuss", over some magazines. Some of the wives wrapped the magazines, in brown paper, while others used last-years Christmas paper. Once the bundles were "disguised", the women told their sons to "Take this off the property, and "Get RID of it"." While the boys followed their mothers instructions, to the letter, making sure that the magazines LEFT the family property, the boys just never said WHAT they did, with the magazines. Now, Tami knew, as well. The magazines had come to the club house, where the boys spent their free time examining the pictures. So, that was the "big secret". Tami did, however, know when it was time to "get lost". This was the time, when the boys started playing a laughing game of kissing one another. While she knew it was just innocent fun, she knew it would take a boy just two seconds to realize that he was kissing a GIRL. While Tami never "outed" the boys, seeing as there was no harm, in looking at magazines, when Tami realized that she was not discovered, she began using the disguise, more often. She even used the disguise, to enter a boys, free-style, bicycle race. While she won the race, when a boy patted her rear, while saying "Nice job, rookie", Tami had betrayed herself, by speaking out, in her female voice, saying "Thats my bottom, boy!". When the judges were called over, and Tami was forced to reveal herself, she was dis-qualified, from the race. Reason: As the rules said, it was a race, between boys, for a Scouts merit badge, in "Fair Play". Since it was a Boy Scouts event, it was limited to boys. While the second place finisher was a full two minutes, behind Tami, he would receive the prize, and first place, since he was a boy, in a boys event. To Tami's annoyance, it was within three months, of this, that her breasts began to "blossoom", and, soon after this, her vagina became "active". Her days, of acting like a boy were over. (OR, were they?) Now, on-board G.S.2, Tami wondered if she could, still, pull off the "young man" disguise. All she needed was a turbin, some of my clothes, and something, to hide her breasts. Then she had an idea. Using one of our lab knives, she cut some padding, out of my bullet-proof vest. (Just enough to let her chest feel comfortable.) While it took her some time, to wrap her hair, in the turbin, the rest, of the costume, was easy to adapt. (She would deal with telling me about my vest, later). Down, in the tunnels, the spirits lead me to the place, where information was available. It might cost me a few drinks, and some credit, but this would be a very good place, to learn either where the bodies were being stored, OR who was selling the bodies. I did not worry, about charging alcohol, on my agency gredit card. After all, Mr. Brown admitted that, at times, his own card was "maxed out", buying drinks, for sources. Sure, Mr. Brown took an occassional drink, but 97% of his bar tab, was case-related. While the spirits were eaves-dropping, free-of-charge, I ended up paying for more than a few drinks, just to find out WHO would have the information that I wanted. (I have to say, though, that, as a life-long tea-tottler, the smell, of booze, was a bit STRONG, in this place.) I had to wonder if the water, which I was drinking, was drugged. I wondered since I thought I saw a young man, who could be Tami's brother. Since her brothers were, all, state-side, it had to be just a coincidence. When I managed to approach the man, who had the information, I had just secured the information, when a woman cried out something, in Arabic. Shortly after this, the young man ran out of the club. When I asked a spectral sargeant, the man told me "That whore claims that a woman came into the club. Came into her chamber, and disgraced her. What nonsense. No woman comes into the club. ALL women know it is forbidden". I had my own suspicions, though. This is when I suggested that we depart this place. The reason why we beat Tami back to G.S.2 was because I allowed the spirits to show me the correct path. After all, this was their land. They knew it so much better than I did. When Tami, eventually, stumbled in, and saw me, she gave me a look of "I KNOW I am guilty. So what?" When I teased her, saying "You never looked better", she rolled her eyes, and headed for the shower. By the time Tami was a woman, again, I had examined my vest, along with the pilots, and we agreed that a new vest should be ordered. After all, the outside material might stop a bullets penetration, but the force, of impact, without the insulated, inner layer, would be like being hit with a baseball bat. When Tami joined me, she said "So, you know. I impersonated a boy, to get into the club." All I asked was "What happened, with the worker?" Tami would say "Would you believe it, I think she thought I wanted to lose my virginity. She wouldn't stop until she opened my pants, and saw my..." When I concluded "Once she saw it, and cried out, you dressed, and ran out". Tami would say "Nothing else I could think of. Oh, and, by the way, while you were racking up that bar tab, did you find anything?" I showed her the list, of names, and addresses. When she asked "Our list, of buyers and sellers?" I would caution her "It MIGHT be the list. When you are rested, I want you to run these names. For all I know, I just ran up a bar tab, in return for a list of Americans, killed in action, here." When Tami would say "I will run it, right now. I am much to wired, to sleep." After an evening, surrounded by drunks, and dope-heads, I was more-than-ready for some shut eye, myself. By morning, though, Tami would wake me, with a soft whisper. When I opened my eyes, she would say "Your dis-comfort, in the bar, paid off. The computer verified that the names are the sellers." When I asked "What about the bodies? Does it say where they are?" Tami would say "No such luck. The note only says that the bodies are "In Transit"." Swell. Even in America, "In Transit" can mean anything from "Being loaded", to "On the Road", to "Being sorted", etc. When the computer beeped, Tami went to check it, then said "Good News." When I asked "What?" She said "After breakfast". Sure enough, the Brown Agency computers had tied the list to a shipment, traveling by train, for some province I had never heard of. A place, whose name I will not dis-honor, by trying to pronounce it. What caught everyones attention were the keywords: "Special Cargo". By the time Ghost Ship 2's on-board computers had provided us with a translation, of the Arabic names, and we learned that our next stop, would be in France, this information did, however, create two problems, which had to be resolved PRIOR to our departing the Cabul area. The first, and, by far, easiest, problem was the locating, where the generals body was being stored, prior to sale. While the list provided us a name, and address, the information, cunningly, was not based upon modern day maps. The information was based upon the more generalized, and much more artistic, maps, of the 1500's, through 1700's. This meant that positions, of towns, were approximate, to a plus or minus, of about five miles. Even so, our pilots were certain that the ships computer could locate the place. After all, G.S.2 had, originally, been designed, and built, as an American stealth bomber. Then, there was the fact that, by the time this bomber was constructed, there had been to many mis-fires, both in America, and abroad, when missiles had mistaken one property, for another target. The "fall-out", to date, from seven missiles, having blasted UN-intended targets, had driven the Pentagon to order that weapons functions be placed in HUMAN hands. Un-like computers, which, simply, follow commands, HUMAN pilots are more willing to double, and even triple, chek targets, to ensure that correct targets are hit. This is why G.S.2's designers had replaced "optically-guided" missiles warheads, with pilots H.U.D. based guidance. In the case, of our bomber, though, the manufacturer had designed in an additional "safe-guard". Had this bomber gone into service, the pilot, bombadier, AND the on-board computer, ALL had to agree, on the target. If targeting accuracy was less than 92%, either the humans, or the computer, had permission to prevent attack. This feature was one which our pilots adored. This because, at times, and in various nations, locations might appear so similar, that attack would be left up to the "little things". Small details, which, sometimes, made the difference between life and death. Within G.S.2, the computer was equipped to visualize the writing, on mail boxes, as well as building signs. In short, G.S.2 could spot a target, atleast as well as its pilots could. While Tami and I worked on "nailing down" the location, of the generals body, Mr. Brown took on an even rougher problem. The problem of gaining an American bomber permission, to enter French air space. This was due to the fact that France was one, of several nations, which had stood opposed to America's un-ending military actions, in the Middle East. When some factions, in Washington D.C. had commented "IF the French are not, FIRMLY, with us, then they MUST be terrorist sympathizers". The French had considered this a threat. While no one, in America, would admit to knowing the source, of the comment, it would seem that this person, or someone else, had suggested that, to prevent France from "Aiding the terrorists", that Amrica should attack France, next. In this way, forcing France to close its borders to all incoming refugees. While the White House, flatly denied that any such actions were even being discussed, when the French government suggested that Washington D.C. issue a flat condemnation, of those, who were spreading the rumors, it would turn out that Washington D.C. was not willing to commit to such a statement. As a result, all Americans, on French soil, were placed under federal surveillance, and observed even more closely, than visitors, from other nations. The French also restricted U.S. air travel, as well as searching every passenger plane, even more than usual. France had made its position clear. While France had issued the American people the nations heart-felt sympathies, for our losses, especially on September 11th, 2001, along with the nations promise to deliver humanitarian aid, which America might request, the French stood in flat opposition to America imposing "Democracy", at GUN-point, in the Middle East. The reason was clear, and simple. As with Germany, France had bitter memories, of World War Two, with troops, marching in the streets, and civilians being either shot, dead, or dis-appearring, just because an invading force FELT that the people MIGHT POSSIBLY be "enemy sympathizers". As with Germany, France was determined: "It will NEVER, happen, again". Now. Mr. Brown was in negotiations, for allowing what was, really, nothing less, than a stealth bomber, to land on French soil. It would take DAYS, for Mr. Brown to convince the French that our plane carried no missiles, or combat soldiers. When asked about our pilots status, Mr. Brown would agree "Yes, the men are RETIRED air force" When the French had questioned "Then, these men ARE capable, of launching an attack, on our lands, should your government desire, to conquer our lands". Mr. Brown would be required to soothe this, by promising "I said the pilots are RETIRED. They have no access, to ballistic ordinance". When the French Defense Ministry would insist "If your ship is not so armed, as in preparing for battle, the you will not object if French inspectors take a look at the plane, once it enters French air space". Mr. Brown would say "Go right ahead. AND, if you find any ballistic ordinance, on-board, I will EAT the bombs, in front of your president." By the time the message rached Cabul, Tami and I had used ancient maps, to plot where the plane would be flying, after the federal inspection. When our pilots received the inspection orders, the pilots only comment was "Will the French provide food, and drink, for us, while they examine the plane?" The only response, from France was "You Americans". Since our primary destination was to be a military base, just within French borders, when the co-pilot mentioned "I was stationed here, once. There is a great little cafe, just outside the base..." When the pilot would ask "...Is that the place where the waitress slapped your face?" When the co-pilot would say "Yeah. Thats the place. HOW was I supposed to know I was making a lewd suggestion, in French? All I wanted was some French Chocolate". The pilot would say "Stick to English, IF we are even allowed off of the base. Your French is even worse than your other, language, "skills"." When Tami would ask "I am curious. WHAT did the man really ask, of the waitress?" The pilot would say "Ma'am, as you are a woman, I will not repeat the words, either in French, or in English". When Tami suggested "That good, huh?" The pilot would say "HE drew thrity days, in the brig". The co-pilot would mutter "Rub it in". When we landed, at a French air base, (Whose name I will NOT insult, by trying to pronounce it), before the pilot would deploy our weapons pods, the pilot would ask the French base commander "Permission to deploy weapons pods, for inspection". For some reason, the French seemed shocked to find that our plane was equipped with 50-calibur machine guns. While the four of us rested, nearby, the French went over G.S.2, even asking about protrusions, along the body. Our pilot would, in a dis-interested tone, mention things like "flak dispensers", "flares", "chaff", and "smoke", among various terms, for various parts. What Tami and I could not believe was when we viewed the French actually taking a sample, fom G.S.2's fuel tanks. A sample which was sent for testing. When Tami would ask our pilots "Why bother? Its only jet fuel". Our co-pilot would say "There have been rumors, that U.S. planes are being loaded with a combination of jet fuel, and some other, liquid". The pilot would "The rumor is that, once the plane is in flight, pilots can inject a toxin, into the exhaust." When Tami would ask "Isn't that dangerous, to thee ground crews?" The pilot would say "No, ma'am. No deadlier than spilling soda. The mix only becomes lethal, when burned in the engine exhaust. Anyone, inhaling the remnants, of the exhaust, would die". The co-pilot would say "Thank God, its only a rumor". By the time G.S.2 was declared "non-hostile", Tami had the chance to speak to some French military people. She had received some refreshing news. "It seems that our target has been stationary, for the past few days". When I would ask "Why is that?" Tami would say "Heavy rains. Creeks, and rivers, are over-flowing. Sewers are backed up. By the time we arrive, the clean up should be just about complete". When I asked "The sales?" Tami would say "Unless they were dumb enough to try and sell, on-line, the sales have yet to begin". Receiving clearance, for an American plane, to land, at a local airport, turned out to be more difficult than trying to land G.S.2 on a ninety degree angle. It would seem that, not only was France opposed to America's invasions, of the Middle East. It would, also, seem that a few, active-duty, American soldiers had the same language problem, which our co-pilot had, once, had. While no Frenchman would speak of it, with Tami (a woman), present, I was, discreetly, given an example. It would seem that the same insult, which would receive a "flip off", from an American woman, was, in France, considered the same as removing ones bottoms, in front of the pope. Still, despite Frances opposition, to American invasions, some, armed, French, boys remained willing to assist in our search. I dont know HOW the man does it, but Mr. Brown had, by this time, secured the location, of the generals body. The address, building, section, and even the crate number. Mr. Brown never ceased to amaze. Now, came the disgusting part. As per agency protocol, before Brown agents are allowed to commandeer any objects, we are required to verify that the actual merchandise is, in fact, present. This is because, early, in its existance, Mr. Brown was hired, to commandeer a statue, which was supposed to be in a certain crate. When the crate was commandeered (with Mr. Brown losing an agent, as well as a close friend), Mr. Brown had decided to verify the contents of the box were, indeed, worth the price, of his friends life. What Mr. Brown found, inside the crate, was not the ancient, painted, procelian, statue, of a goddess. All that Mr. Brown had found, in the container, was a blow-up, sex, doll. This is why Mr. Brown, himself, had lead the team, which delivered the crate. When the receiver had said "Let us open it up, and gaze upon my prize", Mr. Brown would interceed, saying "This crate cost me one of my best agents lives" When the receiver would say "Most un-fortunate" Mr. Brown would keep the crates lid in place, while delivering the bill of lading. Mr. Brown would list the crates number, then say "The package is delivered. Where is the payment?" When the receiver would say "First, allow me to gaze upon my prize". Mr. Brown had said "You KNOW what is in there. It never was a statue. Now, if you will accept delivery, and present our payment, we will be on our way". When the receiver had said "Most un-fortunate. This means you die, NOW!" The receiver had been dumb enough to think that Mr. Brown had not anticipated such an ambush. As a result, the Brown operatives were wearing enough body armor, to make possible their escape. While the receeiver had thought that he would have the "last laugh", in gunning down Mr. Browns agents, it would seem that Mr. Brown had gotten the REAL "last laugh", when he returned the borrowed, bullet-proof vests. Mr. Brown also put out the word, on the receivers treachery. After this, Mr. Brown instituted one, of his primary policies: Check status, of merchandise, prior to action. Since cardboard crates are notorious, for having squeeky nails, Mr. Black had developed a "nail no-squeek" spray. Nails might hold, if secured, properly, but crates would not squeek, if we were able to lift their lids. Applying our air purifiers, Tami and I lifted the top, of the crate, just enough to verify that the generals body rested inside, packed in something like dry ice. Our pilots lowered us a cable, through our access window, and, once the generals body was removed, from the crate, myself, and our pilots, hoisted the body, while Tami inspected the crate, in order to ensure that it appearred un-touched. Tami was just preparing to climb out, the window, when a strange, smelly, gas, began to pump into the chamber. When Tami realized that the gas was poison, she found herself saying "Really?", before she switched her air intake, fully, to the purifiers on-board, air supply. Now, the "clock was ticking". Tami had just twenty-four hours, worth of reserve air, to make a five minute climb. Outside the building, and with the general still frozen, I truly, do not know what the phantom soldiers said, or did, to the living soldiers, but the living soldiers abandoned their firing positions, around our group. All that I DO know is that, one moment, the soldiers were ready, to shoot us, where we stood. The next moment, the living soldiers dropped their weapons, and ran. Later, on-board G.S.2, and with the general "back on ice", in G.S.2's on-board freezer, We would return the man to his home village, and to his grieving family. (This, even as Mr. Brown had his agents scouring the Middle East, for the lieutenants bodies). I know it will sound odd, however, when Tami and I returned the generals body, his mother did not even flinch, when her sons spirit stood beside her, whispering "These are my friends". (Indicating Tami and I). When his mother would say something similar to "These American scum! They bomb our lands, detain our people, endlessly. Force us to accept THEIR version, of government, and at GUN-point! You call them friends?" The general would inform us "Pardon my mother. She DOES know your language. She was the one, who taught me. Isn't that right, mother." When the woman looked at us, with murder in her eyes, and said, in English "You murdered my son. Now, you want me to thank you, for returning his body?" The general would say "Mother, I ASKED these Americans to aid me, in recovering my body. The scavenger clans reemoved my remains, from the field of battle. Now, I am home, in body and soul. I ask you to thank the Americans, for aiding my return, to my home. Now, I may be properly buried, in accordance with Sharia. I may stand, before Allah, and join my brothers (in arms)." To our surprise, the generals mother would ask "Will you remain, and show your respect, for my sons sacrifice. I ask this in the name, and presense, of Allah". Not knowing HOW to show proper respect, under Arab society, I would bow, and Tami would curtsey, as we agreed "We would be honored". At the funeral, I learned that the general had, for most of his life, been the Arab version, of American General Omar Bradley. The man had been willing to lead his forces, into battle, but ONLY with good reason. This, and a CLEARLY DEFINED goal. The general was no "jihadist", or a militant. When, at the funeral, I asked Tami if I were imagining what I saw, during the service, Tami would whisper "If you are imagining then so am I". Tami, myself, and the generals family, watched as the soldier stood, before Allah, who was dressed in dazzling white. After the general made the humble stance, and Allah embraced the general, the general turned to the gathering, waiving "farewell". Shortly after this, the service was completed, as the Holy man would say "May Allah be praised, in the highest". The lieutenants, however, were another story. It would seem that, although all three men died, in the same attack, that "lieutenants" are just not in such "hot demand", by collectors, as generals were. Not even as martyrs. It would, also, seem that, in order to "protect their investment", the scavangers had sold the soldiers bodies, twenty-five miles apart. While the bodies remained in France, the location was "somewhere in underground France". With the amount, of jet fuel, we were bruning, on this case, we were thankful that Allah/God/The Chairman made allowances, for this. Mid-air re-fuelling was no problem. Neither were re-supply shipments. No, the main problem was jet-lag. After flying to the Middle East, then to France, then back, to the Middle East, by the time we were due to return to France, all four of us were ready for twenty-four hours, of rest. (For the record, the ONLY reasons why Tami and I shared a hotel room, in France, was for two reasons. First, the reservations clerk had decided that a man and a woman, travelling togteher, were "involved". This was because Tami and I noticed that Tami was listed, under MY family name. Second, since there was a festival in progress, to celebrate the liberation, of the village, from the Nazi's, all those many years ago, the hotel was full up.) Sure, we COULD have slept, on G.S.2, but we did not want to risk offending our hosts. Two days, of rest, later, and Mr. Brown would send us a lead. One, of the lieutenants bodies was being stored, inside a meat-packing plants freezer. Surveillance said that plant security was, nearly, non-existant. Just one guard, to keep watch, over the thermostats. Mr. Black added his "magical touch", to the "festivities", by using security camera footage, to create duplictes, of the packing plant workers uniforms. So far, Tami's "teenage boy" disguise was holding up, to any scrutiny. We could, only, hope for the best. Entering the meat packing plant was a sinch. A simple, pad, lock (which Mr. Black had provided us a duplicate key for). Tami was only irate when she saw that the brave soldier was being stored, like a side of beef).. By the time Tami and I had the frozen man, on a cart, and rolled him out of the door, our pilots had a van, ready and waiting, for us. To my astonishment, gate staff did not even question our late-night delivery, of "frozen meat", destined for a local hotel. Once the first lieutenant was, safely, in G.S.2's freezer, then came body number three. Jesus! Was the third body hard to get hold of. Both Tami and I wondered WHY warlords, and other dictators, desire to own the bodies, of deceased soldiers. While Tami and I had, both, heard the rumors, over the years, we just could not believe that modern people still believed in such tales. Tales, which included the story that claimed that ownership, of a corpse, which had died, bravely, in battle, would, somehow, embue its owner, with "magical/mythical" powers. What we were faced with was a person, who was either insane, with power, or just plain insane. By the looks, of the heavy fire power, in the complex, it was a safe bet that the owner was paranoid as Hell. While checking the lay-out, Tami found out just how psycho the man actually was. Based upon her research, it would seem that, while the mans sister had hoped, for an edcucation, at one, of Europes, finer, schools, her brother, whom Tami had heard, was mentally un-stable, presumably since childhood, had insisted that his sister marry him, instead. If the research was, in any way, truthful, it would seem that the man, reportedly, locked his sister/wife in a cell, chanied to a wall, when he had no call for her. When I asked about the parents, Tami would say "I keep finding the same information. The man hunted down, and murdered, their parents, for objecting to his plans, to marry his sister." By Tami's look, of revulsion, I said "Let me guess. The siblings have children, and the guards have "shoot to kill" orders, IF either the mother, OR her children, try to escape". Tami would add "The same orders apply to house hold staff. If guards even suspect dis-loyalty". When I asked "Is there any GOOD news?" Tami would say "The man is planning a public viewing, of the body, two nights from now". When I would mention "full moon", Tami would say "All sources indicate that the man is a full blown psycho. He wont even have sex, unless the full moon is visible". When Tami would ask "Do we call it off?" the lieutenant would appear, looking totally human, and asking "Why? My men have taken down tougher places". When I would suggest "Then, YOU, and your men, take down the defenses, then WE will secure your body". When the lieutenant would ask "When?", and Tami would say "Two nights from now. The full moon." The soldier seemed happy, that he would be fighting, again. What none of us could have conceived of was the mans reaction, when a "ghost battallion", took down his guards, in a matter of minutes. No question. The man was insane. Proof of this was evident, in the fact that not only did he keep a fully loaded automatic rifle, at his bed-side, but, for reasons, only his demented mind could understand, once the attack was underway, he did something, which even the ghost soldiers wouild think un-believ-able. For some, unknown, reason, the man actually crashed through his childrens bedroom door, yelling "traitors", then emptied the primary clip, of the rifle, into his childrens bodies. Soon, after this, his sister/wife would whisper "May Allah have mercy, on my soul", as her brother entered her cell, and she walked up to the man. The wife had seen the insanity, in the mans eyes, and she knew, as any mother would know, that her children were dead. She didn't flinch, as the man rammed the knife, through her heart, even as he whispered "traitor". Shortly after this, the man regained his sanity, long enough to witness the group, of phantom soldiers, ready to avenge the deaths, of the innocent. As to why he bothered emptying a clip, of ammunition, into a group, of deceased soldiers, this was anyones guess. After the soldiers brought the wife, and children, to Tami and I, the battallion made sure that the insanity received the most un-holy, of "burials". What struck me as odd was how, while the compound was inside France, Almost everyone, present, was Arab. With the soldiers body loaded into G.S.2's freezer, the wifes, and childrens, bodies, were loaded as well. Tami and I would attend three, more, Islamic, funerals. After seeing the last, of the lieutenants off, Tami and I watched as Allah welcomed the woman, and her children, into his warm embrace. It would seem that, to Allah's point of view, the woman, and her children, were, ALL, victims. Just before the group vanished, the wife said something, which only Tami seemed to hear. When I would ask, Tami would say "Those were her parents, who were with Allah. They were present, to welcome their daughter, and their grand-children, home." I was about to suggest "Shall we consider the case done?" When a new group, of voices, these, of Americans, would ask "What about us? Dont Americans deserve atleast as much aid as the Arabs?" My thought was "Swell" Now, we had a shot down bomber crew to aid. When Tami would ask the spirits "Do you know where your bodies are?" The air force captain would say "Twenty miles that way. We would appreciate it if you would bring our bodies, to command, and inform our families". When Tami thought "What about the standard notification of "We regret to in form you..." The captain would ask "How would YOU feel, if some, nameless officer, told YOUR family "They are dead, end of story"?" Tami and I knew that the soldiers had a point. The problem was, if Tami and I stayed around, to aid every soul, which had perished, during the invasions, then our descendants would, still, be processing souls, well into the future. Where would it end????

THE HAUNTING PAST MYSTERY OF MISSISSIPPI

THE HAUNTING PAST: DECEPTION OF THE SOUTHERN STATES While it is a proven FACT that the origin, of the Ku Klux Klan, was to have its members dress, in white sheets, and riding, on horse-back, there were, in fact, historical precidents, for each of these concepts. For example: The primary reason, for the white sheets, was due to the fact that not only African, but, also, Jamaican, Negros, historically FEAR the supernatural, and that even the "toughest", among Negroes, turn pale, when seeing what they believe to be spirits. The simple reason, for the use of horses, goes back to the fact that, at the time, when the Klan was formed, automobiles remained science fiction. In the days, of the Ku KLux Klans founding, everyone, black AND white, either rode horse-back, or in horse-drawn wagons. In those days people, of BOTH ethnicities, WALKED everywhere. In fact, neither the telephone, nor the modern post office, would exist, for decades to come. In the days, of the founding, of the K.K.K., homes, not lit by candles, or lanterns, were lit, after sunset, by gas, which was pumped through a homes walls, via metal piping. (Piping which was, discreetly, buried inside a homes walls. The gas was pumped into wall sconces, and these were lit, each evening, using matches. The normal time, to light the sconces, would be twilight. It is, also, important, to note that, in the days, of the K.K.K.'s foundation, that NO person, black, OR white, dared enter another persons property, without being formally invited. While, for men, such invitations were, mostly, verbal, in nature, and made in a public setting, women, on the other hand, often penned highly artistic invitations. Invitations, inviting other women to ones home, either for tea, knitting, conversation, or, for the literate (those able to read), personal reviews, of the latest texts, which had arrived, from European printing houses. It CAN be argued, that the K.K.K. was ALLOWED to flourish, since local law enforcement was non-existant. Neither, for that matter, did county sheriff's exist. In point of fact, sheriff's, like judges, rode "circuits", around a very large area. Maybe as large as 500 sqaure miles. This is why a sheriff's, or judges, visit, to each town, was only for an overnight stay (unless there was a case, to be heard). Otherwise, a judge might visit a town, only four times per year. As for the reason why the Klan burned crosses, this would be similar to asking a soldier why they wear a uniform. According to the latest case file, the state, of Mississippi, was having some most unusual K.K.K. problems. The report stated that the K.K.K. had, apparently, switched over, from riding horses, to riding motorized cycles. Cycles, which appearred to "glow", after dark. Reports also said that the cycles were as silent, as an evening breeze. (To this report, Mr. Black had added a notation. "there is no "secret", that both motor cycles, and automobiles, can operate, silently. This technology is referred to as "Electro-Transportation". These units may be purchased either in-line, or at speciality stores.) What seemed to concern Mississippi, most, however, was what was missing, from these attacks. Traditionally, the K.K.K. either left biblical references, on target property, or K.K.K. riders would announce scripture passages, to frightened victims. This is why Mississippi was concerned that these "new", Klansmen, were only using the K.K.K. as a cover. The impersonators got the glory, and the K.K.K. took the consequences. Mississippi was willing to pay a substantial reward, in return for a simple request. Like Germany, and those fake Nazi's, Mississippi wanted to find out WHO the cycle riders were, and why the riders were impersonating Klansmen. IF, in fact, the riders turned out NOT to be Klansmen, after all, the state would handle arrest, and prosecution. Nowhere, in the file, was the question of "What if the riders ARE REAL Klansmen?" The question seemed to have been overlooked. The one thing, about the case which relieved Tami, was the fact that "Atleast these people are staying with the K.K.K. manifesto. They only seem to be targetting Negroes." I would suggest "Good point. Narrows down the field, of both suspects, and potential victims." When Tami did some on-line research, she was, also, relieved to find that the Klansmen retained their traditional rationale, for each attack. In three cases, Negroes were forced out of their homes, before the homes were torched. In two, of these cases, it was suggested that Negro women were dating, and mating with white men. In a third case, not only was a Negroes home burned down, but the young, Negro, male, occupant, was tied to a tree, and horse-whipped. His crime? Impregnanting a white woman. In the modern day, it would seem that the motorcycle riders seemed to want to instill FEAR, of the dark, in the Negroes. This, Tami noticed, since the riders had been witnessed, on multiple occassions, and always after sun-set. The riders threw bricks, at car windows, while "bumping" into pedestrians, hard enough that the walkers dropped what they were carrying. The most common factors, in each incident, seemed to be the bed-sheets, and the fact that all of the victims were Negroes. While Tami and I reviewed the case, Mr. Brown would come to us, saying "The Grand Master has contacted ME. He says he wants this crime solved, as soon as possible". When Tami would ask "HOW do we know that the K.K.K. is not, actively, involved, in this?" Mr. Brown would say "I can tell, from the mans voice. The man is upset, and concerned, that someone is using the K.K.K., as either a "shield", for their crimes, OR that this is copyright infringement". When I would ask "WHO would WANT to distort the image, off a nationally-recognized group, of racists?" Mr. Brown would say "THAT is what Mississippi wants the two of you, to find out. IF it IS a fraud, you are to follow state law. In order to avoid any suspicions, of "racial profiling", the governor has placed the states national guard on stand by. Whether these criminals are Klansmen, or not, the national guard will take jurisdiction, over all arrests, and prosecution." Tami would add "What would you want to bet that, no matter WHO we find, behind all of this, their defense will be "I am on a mission, from God. Mortal law does not apply to me". Mr. Brown would say "In that case, it will be your task, to prove them WRONG." While Tami worked to develop a list, of locals, for the interview process, Mr. Brown would pass on some information, to me. Information which, when I shared it, with Tami, we found that we, borth, felt relieved that we had rejected the Fallujah case. It would seem that, despite ALL of Washington D.C., and the Pentagon's, reassurances, that the Middle East was "safe", for Americans, both in the air, and on the ground, the REAL story, in the Middle east remained the same. "Rebels/patriots", using American, surplus, equipment, had shot down the planes, carrying two U.S. senators. Both on their way into the region, for an on-the-ground assessment. The very same "rebels/patriots", who had, previously, shot down American fighter-bombers, and, now, had shot down the senators escort fighters, as well. Out of retaliation, for these planes being shot down, American Invasion Command had ordered the complete levelling, of ALL villages, in the vicinity, which were even "suspected" of harboring the "anti-Americans". Add to this the fact that the media would be forbidden to report that, as villages were being destroyed, dozens, of suicide bombers, were being prepared, to strike BACK, at the invaders. Blood, and Destruction, had become common-place, in the Middle east. For this reason, Tami and I considered ourselves "blessed" with the understanding that we were safely, as far from the fighting as possible. On the other hand, dealing, with spirits CAN be just as deadly, as dealing with "terrorist/patriots". I would say that the only, real, difference, between the two, would be that, under most circumstances, Tami and I could tell the difference between the living, and the dead. I do recall one afternoon, when Mr. Brown shared some news, with Tami and I. It would seem that one, of the senators staff members, had negotiated a deal, with the "rebels". Five bars, of American gold, for the senators safe return. The problem, the other senator was having, was their standing rule, of "No Negotiations, with "terrorists"." Since this senator was, also, on the board, of the treasury, which oversaw America's gold supply, the senator had standing orders "I will let those devils KILL me, before I will have America BUY my freedom." Easy to say, from an office, deep inside the security net, of Washington D.C.. Not so meaningful, when strapped, to a table, in some underground shelter, with people preparing to slice your body open. While the immediate response, from Invasion Command, would be to begin yet another series, of devastating attacks, against the local populace, under the message "We will stop attacking YOUR people, when you return ours." The senators body parts would be left out, for soldiers to find. The body was cut into seven, equal, parts. The note, left with the body, stated (In Arabic) "Invaders! Because you have destroyed seven of our villages, and killed who knows how many, of our people, we return the favor. Each, of the seven parts, of this body, represent a village you have destroyed." When, inside the Brown Agency, Mr. Brown could see the question, on our faces, he, politely, said "Dont ask. I am just thankful that you did NOT accept the Fallujah assignment". That night, aboard Ghost Ship 2, I recall bedding down, and, I THINK, I fell asleep. The reason why I am not certain, of this, is because I found myself standing INSIDE Fallujah. To be precise, I found myself standing on a rooftop. When I sensed someone beside me, I turned to my right, and found my partner, standing beside me. When Tami asked "Where are we?" I would say "From the looks of the place, we are standing in Fallujah." When Tami would ask "WHAT are we doing here?" Another voice would say "An excellent question, young lady." When Tami turned to the voice, and saw a man, in uniform, she asked "WHO are you?" When the man introduced himself as a general, and Tami asked "You know our language?" The man would smile as he said "I thought you were told, LONG ago. In the land of the spirits, we ALL speak all languages". When I asked "May we know your name?" (I wont insult the spirit, by trying to pronounce his name), the spirit told me his name. What the man DID tell us was "I have died a most noble death. I died, defending a village, from your invasion forces." When Tami would ask "Our invasion forces?" The general would say "Yes. You are American, are you not?" Tami would correct the man, by saying "Our GOVERNMENTS invasion forces" The general would shrug his shoulders, and say "Same difference". This is when Tami would remember her grand-fathers words, about both Germany, and Japan. Since the man served in the war, his opinion remained, to this day "A Japs a Jap, and a Krauts a Kraut." Now, Tami was coming to see that Americans were NOT the only nation, which held this prospective. To the Children, of Islam, who had lived, under daily bombardment, by American forces, for over a DECADE, America was, in fact, the Great Satan. Old Glory had taken so many, of their lives, since the turn of the century. Islam no-longer cared what the average American thought, of the invasion. All that the Children of Islam knew was that America was pounding their villages, daily, un-relenting in our "determination" to "Shove Democracy down the peoples throats, no matter how much blood-shed was involved." At this point, Tami was not half as concerned, with what view-point, that the public had. She wanted to find out WHY the general had not moved on, after the death of his body. When the general would say "I remain for more than one reason." When Tami would ask "How many reasons?" The general would suggest "Allow me to numerate them, for you. First, of all, I want my family to understand that I died, with honor. My unit fought off the invaders, until our last breath. Praise be, to Allah, that, by the time the invasion forces took the village, there was nothing left, but bombed out buildings. When Tami would, quietly, say "Next?" The general would say "I want my body found, and NOT by the invasion forces. I will give you the location, of my remains. In Allah's name, I wish you to have my FAMILY recover my remains. I do not want to be "dumped" into a mass grave, as others have been. I want my family given the full burial rights, accorded by Sharia." When Tami would say "We will do our best, however, may I ask you something, in return?" When the general would ask "What is your request?" Tami would ask "Would you be willing to discuss a cease-fire with your fellow soldiers? Allow the violence to come to an end?" Tami would be surprised when the general would, in return, ask her "If it were possible to return, to the days, of America's Revolutionary War, would YOU be willing to ask General George Washington to surrender the thirteen colonies, to oppressive, brutal, British rule, just to save some lives?" This is when Tami recalled a conversation, which we, once, had, with Mother Superior. A conversation, in which the nun had asked "Isn't the differrence between a "terrorist", and a "patriot", just a matter of where one is standing, at the time?" When Tami had asked "What do you mean?" Mother Superior had asked "If you had been alive, in the 1770's, how do you think that Parliament would have referred to the rebel colonies?" Tami would say "I never thought about it. The history books never mention that." Mother Superior would suggest "What if I told you that, while George Washington, and his "crew", were being hailed, as heroes, in the colonies, back, in Parliament, the "Founding Fathers" were considered the lowest form, of rebel filth, in world history. Every obscenity, known, to the English language was applied to these men. In the colonies, George Washington, Benjamin Franklin, Thomas Jefferson, and the others, were hailed, as heroes. This even as the Crown, of England, considered these men "terrorist scum", and other terms which I choose not to use." Now that the general had made his wishes known, other soldiers came forward, asking almost the same thing. They did NOT want enemy soldiers "desecrrating" their bodies. they wanted proper burial, according to Sharia. Even to ME, this made sense. After all, what American soldier does NOT want a proper burial?" I really do not know how long the "vision" lasted, but, man, by dawn, I felt like I needed a nights rest. When Tami joined me, in the galley, she agreed that the "vision" made her feel like she had been awake, all night. When we found a note, on the computer station, (written in Arabic, ofcourse), Tami would ask "Do you suppose these are the coordinates, of the bodies?" When we ran the list, through the computer scanner, then went for some breakfast, half way through breakfast, the computer had the results. It turns out that the list was not just a list of names. It was a list if dates of birth, rank, and so on. When Tami ran the list, of locations, through the ships computer, to find out where each body was buried, this proved to be useless, since, shortly after American forces had declared "victory", and were preparing to move on, fighting erupted, again, as the arab version of "Body Collection" came into the remains, of the village, to search for the bodies. Since the grave-diggers were armed, fighting had restarted, and the village was, again, under heavy attack. (Tami wondered if, by the time the fighting was done, that there would be anything LEFT, to find). By the tiime G.S.2 received clearance, for lift off, Tami had arranged meetings, with several of the people, in Mississippi, who had SEEN the so-called Klansmen. Tami and I had agreed that, until the invasion was over with, there was no use, in forwarding the information. After all, ANYONE, who entered the battlefield area, was subject to immediate attack. Best to focus on Mississippi, instead. Atleast no one was shooting up THIS place (yet). While all of the attacks, in Mississippi, seemed focused on the Negro population, Tami wondered if the Negroes were the TRUE target, or if it was a distraction. The criminals were being so open, in their actions. Their only cover was the moonlight. (Could it be a renegade branch, of the K.K.K.?) By the time G.S.2 arrived, on scene, it would seem that five more homes had been torched. When we inquired, of the police, though, the officers said that MOST of the actions fit right into the M.O., of the K.K.K.. All agreed, though, that something was missing. IF these were K.K.K. crimes, WHERE were the scripture messages? As one officer would tell us "I was born, and raised, here. I KNOW how the Klan operates. They NEVER attack ANY target, without leaving a message behind." When Tami would ask the officer "How many methods do the Klan use?" The officer would say "Always paint. Bright colors. Sometimes spray. Sometimes brush, but Always, paint. Always a passage, from the Christian Bible. That is why these burnings dont make sense." When Tami would return, to G.S.2, and contact Mr. Brown, suggesting he examine race-hate groups, Mr. Brown would say "Already done. My sources tell me that, if this was race-hate, the perpetrators would be celebrating. Since no one is celebrating, even the race-hate groups are wondering WHO is behind the attacks." Barely two weeks after this, the arsonists pulled the stupidest move, in history. At the very time, when the bed-sheets torched a black-oriented church, then rode away, Mr. Brown had agents checking out a Klan rally, in which every member, of the K.K.K., from three states, was present, and all with the same questions. "Who was doing the burnings?" and "Was this action sanctioned?" Mr. Browns Agents, among the Klans membership, were able to verify that, except for two Klansmen, who were in hospitals, for health reasons, EVERY Klansman, within three states, was at the rally. The K..K.K. could NOT have set the church fire! This left the question of "WHO is impersonating the K.K.K.?" If Tamis interviews, with locals, were any indication, the fact that, all witnesses saw were the bed-sheets, Tami was left to conclude that the perpetrators could be ANY-one. After all, how HARD is it to come by a "ghost costume"? While the NAACP was howling that the crimes were being done, by the Klan, the Brown Agency was NOT convinced. To prove our point, Mr. Brown had Mr. Black's effects department put together a dozen, Klan "uniforms", then marched the agents into the center, of the town. When a few black voices called out "KILL the Klansmen!", Mr. Brown would say "Silence! You think, just because a person has a bed sheet on, that they are K.K.K.?" When the voices called out "If they are not Klan, then WHO are they?" Mr. Brown would say "Now, that is an intelligent question." Mr. Brown would proceed to removing each agents cowl, and identifying each, including their primary functions, at the agency. When the crowd would ask "Are you f*ing with us?" Mr. Brown would ask "Why would I do that?" Another voice would ask "If the people doing the violence are not Klan, then WHO are they?" Mr. Brown would say "My staff are on that trail, as we speak." In another location, some miles away, a report would be recived, yet the receiver would NOT be happy, with what they were hearing. The way, in which the receiver was saying "G*dd*mit! G*d f*cking D*mmit! They are ruining all of our f*cking plans. Everything, that we have been working for. I would like to KILL their f*cking asses!" When another person would look at them, the receiver would say "Those northern f*ckers. They are convincing the f*cking local population that a bed-sheet does NOT make a person Ku Klux Klan." When another voice would ask "What do we do?" the primary voice would say "We have got to get those m*ther f*ckers OUT of here. They are going to blow the whole, f*cking, plan!" While the others, present, were not in favor of the language, which the primary speaker was using, they knew better than to mention it. Not at a moment, like this. No, better to let the speaker calm themselves. Once calm, more correct language would make itsself present. It was only during times, of rage, that the speaker spoke in a way which offended even those present. Yes, the immediate goal had to be to get the Brown Agency OUT of Mississippi, so that the plan could move forward. The group needed racial dis-trust, more than anything. They had to set black AGAINST white. They could not risk the public uniting behind a common solution. The next act, of their "leader" would be something which the group would regret, for the rest of their days. Less that a week after Mr. Browns demonstration, tensions had begun to cool, and locals had begun to relax, when an attrocity, so un-thinkable, some would say that only Satan, himself, could have perpetrated the violence. When local police, and fire, departments, reported to the scene, of a fire, the department members froze, in sheer dis-belief. The fire, completely forgotten, as the humans watched what none could comprehend. When a police officer thought to call the station, saying "Chief, you have to see this". When the chief of police radioed "What is it" As soon as the officer said "NOT on the radio", this is when the chief brought Tami and I along. Personally, I was not suprised, at all, over the fact that, when Tami saw the scene, she got just as sick, as the emergency personnel, on-site, had been. How could any one NOT be "moved" by the site. There, on the front lawn, of a home, which was for sale, stood a wide variety, of K.K.K. emblems, all bright, and fiery. In the center, like a gross display, were four crosses, each containing the body, of a mutilated, black, child. When someone called out "How much more proof do you need?" Another called out "It doesn't make sense." When the previous voice would cry out "What doesn't make sense, H*NKEY?" The chief would order "SILENCE! He is right. This does not make sense." When Tami would ask "What do you mean?" The chief would say "I have seen Klan burnings, before, but, NEVER, and I mean never, have I seen so many effigees. Its like someone is determined to make us believe that the K.K.K. did this, no matter what". This is when a fire-fighter would ask "Since WHEN does the Klan kill children? I thought that children were considered sacred". The Police chief would say "They are, even to the Klan." This is when Tami would state "I THINK that the purpose, of all of this, is to set us at one anothers throats. The violent deaths, of innocent children. This is meant to set the population rioting." When the effigees burned out, their light was replaced with portable, crime scene, lights. The bodies would be taken to the local morgue, for examination, even as local churches were contacted, for family notification. When the fire captain would ask "What do we do, now?" Tami would suggest "We keep a lid, on this. No one, here, talks to anyone, without written permision." When the captain asked "What about our famiilies?" Tami would say "Especially, NOT one SOUND, to your family. As far as this area is concerned, the house caught fire, and the fire department did its job. NOT one word, in the media". Later, when the police chief called us into his office, asking "Alright, little lady. Suppose you tell ME whats going on. Why do you insist this be kept a secret" Tami would ask "What do you think your Negro citizens will do, if they find out that four Negro children have been murdered, then placed on public display?" When the chief would mutter "I dont even want to THINK about it". Tami would say "Precisely! Your town will destroy itself, with race hatred. Negroes are, already, convinced that the K.K.K. is responsible. If people find out that four children have been murdered, this county will become an American version, of the Middle East. The blood shed will not end untill everyone, including bystanders, is dead." Suddenly, the police chief seemed so much "smaller" than usual. He was like a small child, seeking an answer to a puzzle. When Tami checked the Klan's movements, at the time, of the fire, most were either at home, with family, shopping, resting, or out of the area, completely. Even the members, in the hospital, were verified. This is when I would suggeest "Why dont you try the opposite direction?" When Tami would ask "What do you mean?" I would say "I mean, we have triple checked every, WHITE, race hate, group, within five states. Mr. Brown has cleared them all. I think its time we began looking into the "other side, of the coin"." When Tami would ask "You cant mean?" I would use the Sherlock Holmes line "When you have discarded all of the most likely, what you are left with, no matter how un-likely, may be your solution (or simething similar)." When Tami would ask "Why would Negroes kill their own?" I would ask "In such an event, WHO would be the LEAST likely suspect?" Tami would seem shocked, at the very idea. It would only be when we would turn our investigation away from white hate groups, and begin reviewing Negro, hate, groups, that a terrible truth woud emerge. Not only had there, recently, been seven, seperate, sales, of "ghost costumes", to Negro heritage group members, but Tami tracked the sales, of seperate units, of electric cycles, as well. Before we would accept this information, Tami sent our findings to Mr. Blue, for cross-check, and verification. Tami and I wanted to be "bullet-proof" certain, before we took our information before the community. We were NOT about to leave a single "gap". After the information was cross-checked, and verified, Mr. Brown instructed us to vacate the area, and that the agency would send the report, via courier. Our boss understood that, if the information came from outsiders, our chance, of leaving the area, alive, were less than zero. Under strict orders, not to make a sound, or alert anyone, the four of us slipped aboard G.S.2, and we exited the area, while the community slept. Even the lone, third shift, duty officer, at the police department, had no idea we were leaving, until after we were gone. When the sheriff shared our final report, with the authorities, it was not long, after this that, at an un-specified location, the group responsible, for most of the crimes, had asked their leader "HOW could you?" When the leader said "It HAD to be done" When a member would say "But, those children were innocent. HOW could you do that?" The leader would say "It HAD to be done. We NEEDED the racial tension.. We needed something, so shocking, that people would react, emotionally." When the membership saw the leader sitting in their chair, as happy as if they had just cornered the market, on a commodity, which everyone needed, the next thing the leader heard was "We are NOT "taking the fall", for this one." When the leader said "Cowards, what are a few childrens lives, compared to the strife we have sewn?" First one, then more, members would stand up saying "What YOU have sewn. We only wanted racial TENSIONS. NOT the murder of children." When the members began walking out of the room, the "leader" would call after them "remember, if you go to the cops, you WILL hang, for this, as well". Still, the others walked out. Their plans ruined. How would they attone, to the Lord? All they wanted was racial tension. To seperate the whites from the Negroes. Black Power would have risen, just as it had, after Roots did, in the 70's. Why had the leader ruined their plans? What the membership never counted upon was just how psychotic their "leader" actually, was. In the "board room", the leader watched the "traitors" leave the building, and enter their cars. With a smile, the leader would pull out a remote detonator, flip some switches, then smile, even wider, as their former associates were blown to pieces, by plastique. Come morning, the media would be full of stories, claiming that the K.K.K. had, somehow, "learned" of the groups location, and decided to do away, with a potential "enemy". This while, in Mississippi, the results, of our investigation would be kept a closely guarded secret. Even the governor knew what would happen if it was learned that an anti-WHITE group was responsible, especially for the childrens deaths. The state would tear itself to pieces, and civil war would lead to even more blood shed, as the military would be required to kill many civilians, in order to cause enough terror, to restore order. The governor agreed with Mr. Brown. Best to say that a group of psychotic killers had played on recent, anti-K.K.K. publicity, to cover their criminal actions. As for the burnings, and vandalism, it was best claimed that it was just a group, of teen pranksters, hoping to hide behind the "front" of the Klan. Even as Tamis report had indicated, the "witnesses", to the various crimes, had, all, reported, seeing the bed-sheets. Even the sheriff would not make any arrests, based upon "bed-sheet" evidence. No, pranksters, and psychotic killers, were the best, and safest, bet. When the governor asked "What will happen when people want to SEE a body?" Mr. Brown would say "Its in the works, as we speak". Sure enough, by the time the governor went public, with the "deranged killer" story, Mr. Black had used his connections, and secured a body, from the genetic facility. A body which, to almost anyone, would look like a deranged killer. With a clever bit of artistry, the body was made to look like it had died, in a "hail", of gun-fire. Before Mr. Brown sealed the file, however, he asked Johnson, and some, other, staff agents, all of them Negroes, for their honest opinions, on the case. None could believe that anyone would do such a thing, to members of their own ethnicity. When the response, from all staff members was complete shock, Mr. Brown would say "THAT is the reason why this file is going under the heading of "Do not open, under ANY circumstances". Then he would conclude with "Thank You for your attention. Now, let us return to our assigned duties". At the hangar, and inside G.S.2, Tami and I would be surprised when the general, from our "vision", would appear, before us. To our surprise, the man would ask "Would you do myself, and my comrades, a favor?" When Tami would ask "comrades"?" I would mention "Comrads, in arms. Fellow soldiers" A term which Tami, being a woman, would not be familiar with. When I would ask "What is it that you wish, of my partner, and I?" The general would say "Our bodies have been discovered", then he would look ay Tami and say "Not so good." When I would ask "If you have been found..." The general would say "We were NOT discovered, by own our families, or even by Graves Registration. Our bodies were dug up by some traders. We are on our way, to market, to be sold, one by one. Maybe even in pieces." I would say "let me guess. You want US to find your bodies, and return them to your families" The general would say "May Allah praise your actions, and offer you his divine protection." When Tami and I would look at one another, then she gave me our "universal" symbol for "Why not?", the general seemed to "read our thoughts" as he said "GO safely about your work. My comrades, and I will oversee your protection. May Allah be praised". When Tami and I took the generals request before Mr. Brown, the boss would say "Hired, by the deceased, again, huh?" Tami would suggest "Shouldnt that be considered "noble". Helping our fellow man". Mr. Brown would say "Well, its not the first time. Just see if Mother Superior might arrange some kind of gratuity. After all, jet fuel, and provisions, are not cheap". When we said "Thanks, boss", then left his office, Mr. Brown would ask "Dead people hiring my workers. Whats next?" After a quick review, of our past cases, he, powerfully thought "STRIKE THAT!" As for Tami and I, we were off, on ANOTHER, body, hunt. Collecting the remains, of the departed, for family members. After this, WHAT could, possibly, top the list, for our bizzarrre assignments?

THE HAUNTING PAST MYSTERY OF THE BLACK MASS

THE HAUNTING PAST: MYSTERY OF THE BLACK MASS When Tami and I opened the case file, while Ghost Ship 2 cruised, towards America's West Coast, it would seem that this was the kind, of "standard" haunting, which Tami and I had come to specialize in. If the file were correct, a property had been abandoned, for years (no number specified), until a preservation group decided to renovate the property. The groups rationale: Since local children were using the property, for initiations, and Halloween pranks (and a few children had been hurt, in the process), the preservation group had decided to renovate the abandoned house, mostly since not even chain-link fences seemed successful, at keeping the young off of the property. While the property was NOT as "ancient" as the thirteen colonies, it was atleast a century old. Maybe more. As to the properties original use, that was debatable. Some stories said the place was used, by the Northern Army, during the Civil War. Others said it was a guest house, for people, visiting the property owner. What the records, and the file, showed, was that the property was closed down, for years. (Again, no reason given.) More recently, between Halloween accidents, and the fact that the property seemed to be driving local property values down, due to age, and lack of maintenance, the decision had been made, to "deal" with the property. The problem was that the property DID have historical significance. The record showed that "events had occurred", on the property, over its years, of habitation (Or, COULD it have been AFTER the place was closed down?). Events not easily defined. All that local tax records showed was when the property went on the tax roll, and the construction price. $100,000.00 ( in late 1800's dollars). Tami found the section, which interested her. The section, concerning WHOM the living thought MIGHT be haunting the property. The "list" ran the "gambit", from "deceased soldiers", who had, supposedly, perished on the property, to former owners. Those who had cared for nothing except for making profit. Those, who tended the land, and did their best to make the land "fruitful, and abundant". There was a tale, about a sailor who, after a few drinks, enjoyed duelling. There was a tale, of a detective, whom neighbors saw enter the land, but never leave. There were tales, of maids, whom owners executed, allegedly, for the womens becoming pregnant, with the owners child. Tales, of owners having sex, and even producing children, by their own daughters. Tami would scratch her head as she said "This looks like a cross between the corporate lodge, and that Castle." When I would say "I HOPE it is not like the castle case. Remember how LONG it took, for you to process ALL of those spirits". Tami would say "Dont remind me". We, both, remembered that case. Especially the part, where the current owner produced a bill-of-sale, telling an outraged spirit "This castle is MINE! I bought it, fair and square. If you, and the other, resident, "spooks" do NOT vacate, and I mean NOW!, then I will have the courts evict you". Both before, and after, this case, Tami and I had been asked "Would it be possible to evict the ghosts?" Neither Tami, myself, or even Mr. Brown, had any clue to whether it was even POSSIBLE to EVICT a spirit. Now, we were going into a case, where historic renovation was attempting to make an "eye-sore", safe, for entry. One, positive, note, about the file, was that the black mass was not harming, or killing, anyone. It just seemed to be trying to scare people. (Or, was it trying to communicate?) It seems that seven, work, crews had abandoned the job-site, after workers saw the black mass. None reported being attacked, but all felt "un-easy", at the site. As for "descriptions", of the black mass, some "witnesses" claimed that the mass had a "triangle", or "bump", shaped, hat (Like the classic "spy-versus-spy" comics), while others claimed it was just a black mass, moving about, seemingly on a breath of air. About the only thing, which ALL of the "witnesses" agreed upon was that the thing was so BLACK that nothing could be seen, through it. And another, annoying, thing. This mass did not just show up, in one place. Not even one corner, of a room. No, it was reported, all over the property. Tami and I were going to get our exercise, for sure, on this one. As for the property, itself. It was standard, for the 1800's. Ornate decorations, molding, and panelling, which would make modern wood-workers "drool", with envy. From the file photo's, the place must have been beautiful, at one point. It was easy to imagine that the crumbling posts, steps, hand-rails, and other decorations, had, at one time, been the most beautiful, in the area. Thankfully, the place was only two stories tall (Not including the high-pitched roof line). I could not tell much, about the foundation, though, since the pictures did not show much, below the majestic wood-work. Even Tami agreed that this case would involve foot-work, since there seemed to be no attempts at "communications", as yet. Only the sighting of the black mass. While Tami's search, of the internet, turned up most of the basic information, including the builder, construction firm, purchaser, and the rest of the usual, technical, stuff, the problem was that the records contained no mention, or detail, of those who might have DIED, on the property. This was the information, which Tami sought. Basically, the "Who's Who", of WHO might have died, on the property. Our pilots, though, had much better news, when we reached the site. Just as both the pilots, and myself, had hoped, when the construction crews had departed the job-site, the crews had left behind an area, of trampled ground, more than large enough to set G.S.2 down on. (Just like Delcons village). Departing the plane, Tami and I met with the guide, from the local, preservation, group. This time, though, Tami and I would notice that the guide seemed to be in no hurry, to show us about both the property, then the house. The woman was, even, good enough to review what we knew, about the homes restoration, saying "Yes, this place has been around, long enough, that our children think of it as the "ultimate playground". The city has posted several notices, but the young just ignore the warnings. I cannot even count the number, of times, the police have visited this place, just to run the kids off. This is why we have decided to renovate." When Tami would ask "Why not just demolish the place?" The guide would say "We considered that, but only until we had five, seperate, inspectors, look the place over. Would you believe it? This place contains more asbestos, and carcinagens, than ten tobacco plants, lined up. If we demolished, we would, first, have to have all of the dangerous materials removed, by licensed contractors. The COST! When the town realized that demolition would cost four times as much as restoration..." Tami would say "Restoration costs much less". The guide would add "As an added bonus, we keep a part, of local history, alive. Sort of a two-for-one deal, you might say". The guide seemed completely at ease, as the three of us strolled the Victorian-style home. No, this was one of the calmest guides Tami and I, ever, had. When Tami would mention this fact, to the guide, the woman would say "I was born, and raised, in this area. I have known about this house, since my childhood. I have, yet, to see either a ghost, demon, or black mass." When Tami would ask "So, you dont believe in the stories?" The guide would correct Tami, saying "They make great ghost stories. Great fun for camp-outs, and sleep overs." While Tami and the guide began sharing their experiences, including Tami answering the womans questions, about our unusual plane, I would be doing my usual activity. Checking the grounds, for any signs, of things like headstones, grave indentations, or even religious markers. What would impress me, most, however, was the skill, which the stone masons had used, in setting the stone foundation, for the house. The foundation was a "work of art", in itself. What I just dont understand is the reason why, although I felt like I was being watched, I felt no foreboding. It was more like idle curiousity. When Tami would ask me inside the house, then we would travel, to the upstairs bedrooms, and Tami would ask me "WHAT do you FEEL?" I would admit that I did not feel anything like dread, or fear. It was more like "Home is where the heart is" (For lack of a better explanation) In atleast two, of the smaller bedrooms (Where Tami said she felt "un-easy"), I would mention "Thats odd, since I feel right at home. Like this is my own bedroom." In another bedroom, Tami would carress herself, as she said "I can FEEL it. This was the GIRL's bedroom. Totally feminine." I guess that she was right because I felt just as un-comfortable, in this room, as Tami felt, in the boys room. In the master bedroom, though, I THINK that our imaginations got carried away, because Tami and I, both, imagined seeing the shadow, of a couple, having passionate, sexual, intercourse, on a phantom bed. When Tami and I returned, to the main floor, we watched as the guide, named Mary, strolled into the house, like it was her own home,carrying some "gift supplies" which, Mary said "These are a present, from the town. Should make your stay more comfortable." Then Mary would add "If you find you need heat, dont bother with that old boiler, in the basement. It has frustrated twenty, of the finest repairmen, in the county. My suggestion. If you need to keep warm. Long Johns." Once Mary seemed to have un-loaded all she was supposed to bring, to the house, **I** was surprised when the first thing Mary did was check the place, like she was making sure that we had everything, then Mary would hand Tami her card, saying "If there is anything else you might need, feel free to call upon me." After Tami thanked Mary, and Mary strolled away, as though from an old friends house, "Tami would ask me "Remember Lanse Au Meadows?" I would ask "You dont think?" Tami would say "Only one way to be certain." With that, we headed over to G.S.2. Shortly after Tami entered Mary's, full, name, into a search, though, I would hear my partner say "Grrr". When I would ask "Good, or bad". Tami would say "I just ran Mary's information, and VIola!". On the screen was all the information, which Mary had shared, with Tami, including Mary's picture, which was totally identical, to the woman we had been talking with. The credentials matched, to the last letter. Mary was as much flesh-and-blood as we were. This is when Tami would suggest "Time to get to work". While our retired, air force, pilots, checked the perimeter security, I laid the usual gadgets, on the property, even as Tami did our "base-lines", for the interior. I just dont know why, but the house seemed such a comfort. Like it was part of us? While our pilots monitored security, and I surveyed the land, Tami would grab a bag-ful, of flash-drives, and set out, to interview the community. What Tami would find would shock her. Not only did the whole community KNOW about the house, but most people spoke of the house like it was a next door neighbor. As for the black mass? Some said yes, while others asked "What black mass?" In her daily report, to the Brown Agency, Tami would mention that this was the very FIRST location, which she and I had visited, where no one FEARED the location. (Some, of the local boys offered to show Tami their favorite spot, on the property. Tami, however, was not so "old", that she had forgotten what the "real" invitation was). Two days into our investigation, and Mr. Brown sent us a message: "Dispatching assistance. Researcher, who has done extensive work, on your location. Should prove most effective, in aiding your investigation." Tami would ask "Since WHEN does the boss NOT include the researchers information? No credentials?" I had to wonder, as well. Especially since I, too, knew our boss, and the man did not withhold information. When the new researcher arrived, the next day, even I could see Tami's, internal, conflict, as Lysia would say "Thanks for having me back". I have to give Tami credit, though, in the fact that she remained polite, as we travelled to the plane. Upon arrival, at G.S.2, Lysia made no hesitation, in taking her bags directly to my cabin, before setting us down, and asking "How much have you learned, so far?" When Tami gave the short summary, Lysia would say "Just about where I started, as well." Lysia would, then expand upon our research, with stories, about un-married couples being "plagued", by un-seen forces. (Especially while trying to court). Then, there was the story, of the time when the basement door jammed shut, and it was not until a repairman opened a basement window, only to smell the strong odor, of leaking gas, escape, through the opening. Lysia would say "The story goes that, even when the man tried, from inside the basement, the door would not open, until AFTER the man found the source, of the leak, closed the leak, then turned back, to see the door, to the kitchen, open, as easily as a puff of wind." When Tami would suggest "A protective spirit?" Lysia would say "Dont bet against it". When Tami would ask Lysia "How do you know so much, about this case?" Lysia would admit "After the "case", of your friends, at the light house, and the exposure, of the fact that a clone facility was, illegally, selling genetic material, it would seem that my research skills were noticed. I was requested to check on another location, but it took me less than half an hour to find out how the culprits had rigged another, old, house, to scare people away. Cheap, Halloween, tricks. After that, and somewhere between your trip, to China, and its follow up, in Germany, I was assigned to investigate this location." When Tami would ask "What conclusions have you drawn, to date?" Lysia would suggest "It would seem that almost, if not ALL, of the activity, in THIS house, is linked to activities, regarding passion". When Tami would ask "You dont mean...?" And Lysia would correct Tami, saying "No, I DONT mean that it is all connected to sex. Some, probably. I mean PASSION. Like the passion, to pursue a goal, or achieve an award. Something SPECIAL. Something a person must WORK to achieve. Individual recognition." When Tami would state "We have been here, for two days, and nothing. What would you suggest we try, next?" Lysia would say "First, lets make sure we are, all, on the same page. I am here, not because I, still, FEEL, for this man (me). I am here, to do research, and aid your search, for a solution, to this haunting. THAT is my focus. Anything else is just (with a look at me) what happens." When Tami would mention "But, NOT on the plane, right?" Lysia, and I, as one, would say "Definitely not", then look at one another, and laugh. For my personal journal, I just wish this case were along another sea shore. It had been so easy, with the sea in the background... As Lysia joined Tami, with the interview, and conversation, process, I did my best to find out more, about the geography, of the area. About the best, of what I found, were several, abandoned, and crumbling, foundations. I figured that the buildings were either from homes, or businesses, since I found horribly out-of-date heating systems. That, and plenty of lead pipes. I, also, found atleast two very wide ditches, or gorges. While one had a "trickle" of water, at its base, I doubted that this could have caused such a vast ditch. The other was filled with weeds, tree roots, and a few flowers. When I found an elderly, local, man, named Harvey, Harvey would, first, tell me he KNEW I was an outsider. He even knew that I was with that "plane", which sat near the house. When Harvey asked "Where did you get that thing? Aliens?" I told him "No, sir. United States Air Force Stealth Reject." When Harvey would ask "You mean that the government IS building U.F.O.'s, after all?" I would correct Harvey, saying "It was supposed to be a stealth bomber. You know. A plane which radar cannot see." Harvey would suggest "You mean, like them "foo-fighters" that we seen, during the war". I would suggest "Similar idea." Then I would re-direct Harveys attention to the gullies, asking "Any idea what made them?" Harvey would say "Son, any idea? Why, I was AROUND, when them storms caused the land-slides, which made these things." When I asked "What happened to all of the soil?" Harvey would say "Some of it washed down, on the highway, over yonder. Blocked the road, for a couple of days, until some tractors come along, and dug the road out." When I asked "And, the rest?" Harvey would say "Went down the sewers. Clogged up some pipes. City had to bring in shovels, wheel-barrows, and used an old fashioned hoist, to clear the sewers. Boy, you should have SEEN what them fellers looked like, at the end of the day. The fire department drenched the fellers down, with hoses, before the workers went home." When I would mention "You remember this, very well. About how long ago was this?" Harvey would give a soft laugh as he would say "Sixty years, more or less. I gots me a good memory, dont you think?" I would suggest "Better than most people I know". When I would follow up with "Who should I speak with, about that old house?" Harvey would look about, then whisper "Dont bother with them, that holds the deed. They haven't wanted a thing to do, with that house, for "ages"." When I would ask "WHO?" Harvey would tell me a story. When I returned to G.S.2, however, Tami was, already, working on the very SAME information. She was, however, rubbing her belly. When I asked "Where is Lysia?", Tami would say "Last I saw her, she was headed for your bunk." When I went to my bunk, and saw Lysia passed out, I asked, and Tami said "Dont worry. She will be fine, in the morning." When I asked "What happened?" in a soft voice, Tami would reply "Lysia may be good, at research, but she has a LOT to learn, about interviews. Eespecially when to say "WHEN"." In short summary, while Tami was accepting cake, cookies, and tea, while declining alcohol, Lysia decided that "a FEW drinks couldn't hurt". While Tami promised that Lysia was NOT drunk, when the alcohol was added to the sugar, in the cookies, and cake, (several doses of each), Tami had decided that the two had enough research material, for one day. Tami suggested that the women head back to the plane. Once Lysia visited the on-board toilet, then asked Tami "Where may I rest, for a moment", Tami had, casually, montioned, toward our bunks, and Lysia headed directly for my bunk. When I asked Tami "Do you think she will be hung over, when she awakens?" Tami would say "More like sick to her stomach, from all that sugar". (I KNEW where this would leave ME sleeping, that night). While Tami and I reviewed the material, which we had collected, we were just not certain of where it all lead. The one thing, which Tami was certain of was that the stories, of fathers raping daughters, were just as FALSE, as the reports, of daughters, being dis-owned, for becoming pregnant. The whole community denied this, as pure "fairy tale". In fact, even according to official records, the community had not even suffered a single rape. Barn burnings? Yes. Public Discipline? Yes. Murder? Perhaps. Home Invasion? A couple of times. Drunk and Dis-Orderly? YES. There was, even, a story, about a teenage boy, who had been ORDERED to marry another boys "sweetheart", or face a "necktie party". Reason? The girl hadn't wanted her REAL boyfriend blamed, for her pregnancy. She had no problem with accusing the other boy. The story went that the girl was more than willing to blame the innocent boy, when all she thought would happen was a public whipping. To her horror, when the town council judged that, for the "crime", of despoiling an innocent girl, the penalty was that the girl was ordered to marry the boy, the girl had tried to re-cant her testimony, but only until informed that "Bearing False Witness" was an even worse crime. She had "Made her bed. Now she had to LAY in it". After an exceptionally quick marriage, the girl was not even past her honeymoon, when she was "caught", with her REAL man. In order to save her "reputation", the girl had grabbed some poison berries, than told her boyfriend "I hope this works." Within the hour, the girl, suffering extreme abdominal pains, was rushed to the local healer, who gave the girl a generic potion. By morning, the girl was well, and some people thought it suspicious (but said nothing) that the girl was so happy NOT to be pregnant anylonger. When the couple went before the council, again, the council ruled that it was "Gods will", that the child had not come to term. As to the question, of who was happier, when the "marriage" was dissolved, that is debatable. After all, the girl went back to her boyfriend, after ORDERING her "husband" NEVER to tell a soul, that she had DENIED him a wedding night. And this was just one, of many stories, which had "floated about", being re-told, generation-after-generation. By the time Lysia awakened, and returned to the toilet, Tami and I had lost all track of time, having spent our time cross-referencing information. After Lysia cleaned up, and joined us, at the computers, saying "Even being pregnant CANT feel THIS bad." Tami would suggest "Dont bet on that." Tami would, then, smile, as Lysia would suggest "I almost wish I were pregnant. Atleast then I would be justified, in how I feel". When Lysia thought of food, as in breakfast, she RAN for the toilet, again. This time, though, Tami brought Lysia some stomach medication. Military surplus, yes, but, as our pilots could vouch, from YEARS of experience, the liquid could calm anything short of a nuclear detonation. Sure enough, within half an hour, of taking the liquid, Lysia was ready to join us, for breakfast. While Lysia was, audibly, thanking, Tami, for pointing out the on-board choices, for breakfast, Lysia was passing me a note, under the table. When I excused myself, took the note outside, and away from the planes camera's, I opened Lysia's note, Which was quite simple: "I need you. My body yearns for you. I NEED my man. Let me know, SOON!" As I returned to the plane, the ladies informed me that something had happened, down at the boatyard. I did notice how Lysia asked Tami "Should I, as a "junior" member, of the team, stay behind, and process the data?" Tami would surprise me when she said "Dont be ridiculous. Mr. Brown said you are a member, of our team. Take my partner, find out whats going on, and report in". When Lysia and I followed Tami's directions, we found that what SHOULD have been a short, ten minute, drive, turned into a two hour drive, even as Lysia called Tami, only to verify that traffic was, almost, at a stand-still. Lysia would inform Tami "We may not be there, for some time." After that, the ladies dis-connected. By the time my "pass" got us through the barricades, I had to remind Lysia to be quiet, about her urges, even as she realized that she was touching herself. (Believe me, I WANTED to be the one, touching her, however, THIS was business). We could, both, understand what the commotion was about, when we reached the scene, and found what resembled the after effect of a LARGE ship, having crashed into the dock. Even on-location detectives said "This makes no sense. Our harbor is NOT deep enough, for such vessels." By the shape, of the indentations, on both the pier flooring, and the "shape", crunched into the side, of a pier-side shack, the ship, which wrecked, here, MUST have been over 100 feet tall. When Lysia and I back-tracked, to the beach, we found more police, here. All standing over a DEEP, V-cut, in the beach. We listened as the police compiled notes, while asking "HOW could a ship, no less than 100 feet tall, even enter our harbor, let alone do this damage?" When I asked "Just curious. How deep is the harbor?" An officer would say "At LOW ride, maybe ten feet deep. At HIGH tide, forty-five, to fifty, feet." When Lysia would ask "No one SAW the collission?" The answer, not surprisingly, was "Negative". When Lysia would ask "How is that possible, with such a large ship?" The police would say "Heavy fog, last night. All craft were at moors, by sun-down. By sun-set, you could not seen two feet in front of you." While Lysia KNEW that the drive back would take HOURS, at the rate traffic was moving, Lysia was the one to call Tami, and transmit our information back to the plane. Lysia and I, then, strolled the beach, along with others, all wondering HOW a ship, atleast 100 feet tall, could enter a fifty foot deep harbor, without bottoming out. HOW did it get in, ram the pier, then get out, all without being seen, or heard. While I would have preferred a more conventional lunch, Lysia talked me into something I did not expect. To her, atleast, the lunch had the desired effect. It must have been near dinner time, by the time Lysia awoke me, with a kiss. I figured that this was true since, when I looked about the area, I noticed that the on-lookers, from the pier, were gone. Lysia just smiled at me as she said "It was good." When I asked "How long was I out." Lysia said "Dont worry. She hasn't called, to check up, yet." Back at my rig, I called Tami, for an update. When she asked "How's it going, at the pier?" I would say "More questions, than answers." Tami would say "I will just bet. After all, how often does a 100 foot tall ship slip into a fifty foot deep harbor?" When I would ask "Any sugestions?" Tami would ask "What would you like, for dinner?" I would say "I meant, have you contacted regional ship yards, to find out about this ship, yet?" Tami would say "Working on it. Will you be back, soon?" I told her "By the looks of traffic, we should be back, within twenty minutes. Leave the landing lights on, okay?" When I joined Lysia, inside the rig, we took a good, long, moment, just to share a kiss. After that, it was back to the plane (and, no doubt, Tami's wrath). Strange thing is, when Lysia and I returned to the plane, all Tami would say was "You are a grown man. What you do, with your time, is YOUR business." (Lysia just wished she could wipe her smile off her own face.) That evening, Lysia had me drive her to the local hotel, where she had a room on reserve. While we had bunk space, on G.S.2, Lysia would say that it would be better if she did not stay on-board. She would be back, come morning. For the record, I really did not plan on staying, with Lysia, all night. We just began talking, about how the ship had managed its feat and, soon, we were discussing the house, and the black shadow. Lysia's main request, that night, was that, IF she did encounter the shadow, she hoped that I was close by, for her to run into my arms. The last question I had, that night, was "How was a ship, crashing into a pier, connected to a black mass, which was "scaring workers out of a house?" WAS there a connection, at all? Could these be seperate hauntings? All I knew was that I was in for a "world of trouble" when Tami found out WITH WHOM I had spent my night. How could I explain that it had not been "planned"? Lysia and I just started talking, about the case and, the next thing I knew, it was morning. When Lysia and I reported to G.S.2, Tami would report "That ship, that crashed into the dock?" When Lysia and I would ask "Yes? What about it?" Tami would say "No ships, that size, reported in the area. Not even at anchor." When I would ask Tami "Then WHAT crashed into the dock, and gouged the beach bottom?" Tami would say "The $10,000 questions". What "feaked" me was when Lysia voiced my thought, suggesting "What did locals do? Go out, in the fog, sabtotage the dock, AND dig the indentation. ALL on a fog bound night?" Tami would say "So far, its the only thing that makes sense." I was about to ask, when Lysia voiced my question "What does ANY of this have to do, with our "haunted house?" Tami would say "So far, I cannot find ANY connections. Would you care to join me, at the computers?" Over the next week, when NOT working on available "leads", the three of us would learn, more, about the project, by aiding the latest group, of restoration workers. A group which, it seems, had reviewed our "ghost problem". According to the teams foreman, the idea was "As long as the ghost dont bother US, we wont bother it/them." Tami, and Lysia, would aid in coordinating supplies, while I performed any "odd job" which needed doing. I would have PREFERRED to say that Lysia and I kept our "secret" well-hidden, however, in this type of community, NOTHING remains private, for very long. Just as everyone, in town, knew who had arrived, in the mysterious craft (G.S.2), so it was common knowledge of the evenings, when I spent the night, with Lysia. To locals, it did not seem to matter, that Lysia and I were following up, on leads, and developing the case-file. All that people CHOSE to see was a white man, spending his evenings with a black girl. Ofcourse, to hear Lysia talk, it was, mostly, "Who cares what people think. We KNOW what we are doing." Based upon the information, which Lysia would e-mail Tami, once I passed out, each time, Tami was certain that we were, in fact, persuing the case. It would seem that the one "edge", which Tami had, on Lysia, was in regards to the ship, in the fog. Tami would conclude that the fog was not natural, at all. Just as I knew she would, my partner double-checked the available weather forecasts, for the area. While a fog HAD rolled in, on each night, and been documented, by patrols, there just was no weather-related reason, for the fog. While Lysia would suggest a situation, similar to the "classic" movie "The Fog", Tami would mention "I have found no evidence, to support such a conclusion. There are no official records, of any such craft." Tami and I found it odd, as in strange, that Lysia was called away, to work on another project, right after she began work, on written ledgers, regarding maritime incidents. Personally, I had my doubts, about this angle, especially since the damage, caused to the pier, was, obviously, made, by a steel-hulled vessel. Aside from the ironclads, of the civil war, vessels were, still, being constructed, of wood, until World War One. Still, even Tami thought it odd that, just as Lysia was researching maritime records, that she was called away. And, granted, OUR main objective, was the house, and the black mass. Tami just found herself wishing that Lysia had remained, until THIS project was finished. While working with the restoration, ourselves, both Tami, and I, THOUGHT we saw a black mass, a few times, per viewer. Most of the time, however, "it" was gone, by the time we had a chance to react. When Tami had contacted the Brown Agency, about Lysia's "transfer", all the agency would report was "Word has reached this office..." Tami would inform me "I believe that it is the agency's point of view that, when ON DUTY, agents shall be focused on ASSIGNED duties, and NOT on "personal pleasures"." I would have argued that Lysia was making a REAL contribution, to the case, but Tami cautioned, against this. "If you try to defend her, our critics will, only, see an enamoured man, trying to aid his lady love. Best to let it rest". One day, during lunch period, Tami had a prolonged conversation, with a man, who seemed to know much of local history. He, also, seemed to know about some un-recorded shipping accidents. It was not, however, until a worker approached Tami, asking "Who are you talking to?" that Tami looked at the man, only to find the space nothing but air. Thankfully, Tami had her recorder on. Later, at Ghost Ship Two, when Tami played back the recording, sure enough the mans voice was on the recorder. Tami, also, found something in the background, of the recording. While Tami knew that other workers were on the job, while she took her break, the sounds did not seem so much the sounds of tools. Unless Tami was mistaken, the sounds were more like children, playing. She knew what I would say, about this. "Ofcourse, there will be sounds, of children, playing. After all, old homes had provided shelter, for MANY a young family." When the Brown Agency sent a "Request for Information", asking "Why has the investigation slowed down?" Tami would reply "Because Lysia was re-assigned. SHE was the primary investigator, and a real bonus, in my research work. Now that I am working, ALONE, research takes longer." When the Brown Agency would ask "WHERE is that "partner" of yours?" Tami would respond "He is WORKING, just as I am. Will report daily progress, in regular report." For the next three weeks, Tami and I ignored the stories, of "fog-ships", and focused on our black mass. That is, until one evening, when we were invited to a seafood restaurant, for dinner. The sky was clear. The stars were bright. The night was warm. The seafood was delicious. Then, as if either out-of-nowhere, or from some horror movie, a thick fog rolled in, and, in a matter of minutes, not only did the waters, of the bay, vanish, into the "soup", but so did the end of the pier. In fact, as the fog rolled in, thick, water-front businesses sounded classic, ships, bells. This, as personnel rushed to close up shop. Our restaurant had asked Tami and I to return, inside the business, but Tami and I wanted to know WHY people were afraid, of some moisture. We had to be careful, in FEELING our way, along the pier, as visibility was down to inches. No way did we want to "take a swim", in this "pea-soup". I really dont know how far along the dock we were, when something, like a search light beam, shown through the fog. Nothing menacing, probably just searching for any stranded craft, which had not made anchor, before the fog appearred. Then, out of the fog, came the outline of some sort of freighter. Definitely more modern, by the shapes, of the bridge. This was NO wind-powered ship. It was, definitely, either steam, or diesel. It was as the shape grew more defined that we realized the ship was headed for the pier. As it closed, it grew larger and larger. While Tami and I were ready, and willing, to use ANY of the items, in Mr. Backs "bag of tricks", to identify the vessel, all that we could see, through the fog, was a dark hull, topped with a light paint. (Only a few million, such, craft, in the world). Tami and I watched the ship tear into the pier, and groan, as its hull gouged the bottom of the bay. This was an ocean-going ship, not an in-land vessel. As the ships hull tore into the pier, and the beach, Tami and I heard a male voice call "All back, full!". This would be followed, moments later, by "Report all damage", and "What did we hit?" Maybe five minutes later, the fog retreated, and a whistle was heard, from on-land. Tami would ask me "An ALL-CLEAR signal?" As Tami and I continued our investigation, of the black mass, Lysia would contact us, via e-mail. It would seem that her "punishment", for our personal activities, was to be assigned, to several cases, which a first grader could figure out. Since Lysia was growing bored, with her assignment, she kept in touch, with us, via the internet, sharing any information, which she had discovered. While Tami and I had been pondering HOW a fog, on a local waterway, could be connected to our subject property, Lysia had continued her own investigation. An investigation which lead to the conclusion, that the two hautings were UN-related. Not surprisingly, when the Brown Agency learned that the three of us, remained in close contact, Mr. Brown, and I reached a compromise. The terms were clear. The MISSION was to take priority. That, and I was NOT to impregnate Lysia. (My own time was my own, but nothing was to "happen", aboard G.S.2) I found signing the agreement to be the easiest thing I had, ever, done. After all, the stated goals had been our goals, all along. When Lysia returned, to G.S.2, she said she found it funny that her version, of the agreement stated that she was NOT to become pregnant, ON-BOARD the plane. Out of respect, for Tami's feelings, Lysia and I had NEVER. Especially NOT on-board. No, if we did, it was away from the plane. Soon, the women were working the computers, like the worlds greatest hackers, and, sometimes, coming up with some whacky ideas. As Tami and I, KNEW, from EXPERIENCE, sometimes, the best solutions came from the whackiest idea's. While the women re-traced every inch, of the homes past, ruling out everything which could be explained, one way, or the other, and Tami, eventually, declared "That place is so "squeeky clean", it makes my mothers home seem "dirty", by comparison." This is when Lysia would ask "I wonder if we are looking in the wrong place?" When Tami would ask "Where would you suggest we look?" Lysia would say "We have gone over everyone, and every-THING, about THIS house, since it was built, until the present." When Tami agreed, Lysia suggested "What about what was here, BEFORE this house?" Tami lit up as she said "You are suggesting a protective haunting?" Lysia would say "I am suggesting that either some spirit, from the past, is not happy, with either the current home, or the restoration team, or that the spirit is not happy, that this home was built, on THEIR land." Tami knew what this meant. BACK to the church archives. Yes, the records, stored in the basement, of convents. A "filing system", which preceeded any government system, by millenia. Tami just wondered if Mother Superior (the living woman), had kept her promise, and placed the volumes in chronological order. When Tami had suggested this idea, it seems that, prior to OUR using the archives, that volumes were brought to the "crypt", then just placed where there was room. When Tami had suggested listing the volumes, by century, Mother Superior would go another step, and suggest labelling, by location. When the ladies approached the convent, Tami needed no introduction. The sisters knew her as well as they knew the pope. Lysia was allowed entry, under Tami's supervision. When Mother Superior welcomed Tami back, the nun would say "I think you will be impressed with our progress." When the women entered the records vault, Tami was stunned, speechless, when she saw that, not only were the volumes "coded", not just by century, but by geographical location, as well. Sure the crypt would, never, win a "five-star" rating, for good housekeeping, but the sisters had done an excellent job, of placing history in order. As Mother Superior would note, to Tami "You were correct, child. The sisters, and the church, spent so much time, just trying to locate information, that this is why even an hours worth of research, sometimes, took days, just to find the notes." Mother Superior would say "Now, with your suggestion, we can find what we need, in minutes, instead of days." For the church, this was GREAT news. For Tami, and Lysia, however, it only provided a starting point. The women, also, had to remember that, in history volumes, what was recorded was not, always, facts. Sometimes, it was "Gods own Truth" (or, Artistic License, as Tami called it). The GOOD news, for my ladies, was that the church had place all five, of the volumes, on the homes general area, on the SAME shelf. This meant that, instead of hours, spent just serching for the materials, the ladies could spend their time actually researching the materials. This, however, prompted another problem. One which, on seperate dates, and in various, locations, had slowed research to a crawl. Since none, of the three of us, spoke, or read, any language, other than English, we were required to ask the sisters for translations. This time was no different. When Mother Superior viewed the pages, in question, she would tell the ladies "My French is not so good. Let me find a sister, to aid you." Tami and Lysia, had been expecting this, since all three of us expected that the house was built by immigrants, in the days when the only "true" Americans were the indian tribes. While a single visit was all, to the convent, was all that was required, this time, to acquire the needed information, the real problem was with the property, itself. Some man, with a long, dark, beard, continually materialized, on the site, barking, at Tami, Lysia, and any, other, females, working on the site "This is MANS work! Women got no place working with these tools." When Tami would ask the man "WHY? Dont you think that women are capable?" The man would, only, say "There are just some jobs only men should do. You females should stick to what you are better at. Raising babies, and keeping your man happy". Now, while most, modern, women, wouild have been offended by the mans suggestions, Tami and Lysia went the exact opposite way. They asked questions, and "pumped" the man, for as much information, as they could. (Before he vanished). In Tami's, daily, report, she would state "Atleast one spirit, on the property, has been indentified. His name is Dirk, and he was employed, doing construction work, in the mid-1800's. It seems that Dirk has the "typical" mind-set, of an 1800's era male. Namely, women are only good for keeping house, and raising children. Dirk HAS offered to abandon the property, on the condition that only MEN be employed to do this work. Dirk considers women "just too danty", for such work." When Mr. Brown would ask "Doesn't he understand that such views are sexist, and even illegal?" Tami would remind the boss "Sir, you must remember that this man lived decades before the 19th amendment was passed. He does not understand sexism, or even racism." When Mr. Brown would ask "Suggestions?" Tami would suggest "Once we have identified the rest of those, at the site, I reccommend a conference. Negotiate a deal, and send them, ALL, on their way". It was just a few days later, when Tami would ask the project supervisor to thank a woman, named Alice, for taking such care of the workers. Alice seemed to know exactly when, and what, workers needed. Food, drink or massage. Alice was ready to be of service. When the supervisor would say "Sorry, ma'am, no one, on this site, by that name." When Tami checked the internet files, on the area, she found out why no one knew Alice. The woman had been a devoted wife, and home-maker, 160 years ago. Then, there were the two men, in the coveralls. The men who, when some supplies fell on the workers, the men had come forth, and the crew thought that the men were site supervisors, the way they took control, moved the materials, and recued the workers, with only minor injuries. Dont ask me how, but, once the workers were rescued, and were being tended, when the crew turned, to thank the men, for the excellent job, we found that the men had "vanished", just as quickly as they had appearred. Later, still, a supervisor had a fifteen minute argument, with a man, who insisted that an area was dangerous, and that something was not, properly, supported. The supervisor had the man escorted, from the property, by security. Just as the security men were escorting the visitor, to the property line, there was a thunderous crash and, in the time it took the guards, to look back, at the project, see the damage, then look back, at their charge, they found only empty air before them. When the supervisor insisted that they had no knowledge, that the area was un-safe, several workers came forward to remind the supervisor that the man HAD tried to warn him. When the guards returned to the scene, asking if anyone had seen the man, they were to escort, from the property, no one admitted to seeing the man, since the guards led him away. On yet another occassion, a woman came to provide the most wonderful, home-baked, cookies, any of us had, ever, tasted. Talk about style, as well. The decoration, of the cookies, was masterful. It was not until the woman left us three plates, of cookies, then departed, and a supervisor asked what we were doing with the snacks, the supervisor shook their head, when workers mentioned the lovely woman. Back, at G.S.2, a simple name, check, revealled that what the site-controller had told us, in private, after the cookies "incident", was correct. The woman, who had provided the cookies, was the wife of the second, to last, owner, of the house. While she was a true "artiste", with her baking skills, she had put aside her ambitions, and taken a womans "proper" roll, for her day. Even in the early 1900's, women, simply, did NOT have careers. Only homes, and families. When Tami tried to conceive of how restrictive life was, for women, just a century ago, I had to remind my partner that life was little better, for men. Atleast until 1910, or 1920, employers could, actually, DICTATE how men spent off-duty hours. While married men could have an after-work drink, and card, and board, games, single men were required to be sober, polite, and to practice "proper courting procedures", during off-duty hours. Some employers even regulated workers bedtime, and what religion workers either could, or were required, to belong. And, above all else, courting couples were chaperoned, regardless of age. Pre-marital sex was considered as much a blasphemy, in that time period, as a modern couple would be considered, if they had sex, in church, on sunday, on the altar. When Tami would ask "How could people live, and work, under such conditions?" I would suggest "Generations of conditioning. Just becomes habit." When a most polite, young, woman, with a beautiful, southern, accent, came to the site, asking for a gentleman, it was easy to inform her "Sorry, dear lady, but there is NO Victor on this project." Tami was, no-sooner, speculating "She must be one of the roving characters, trying her act out, on us" when, just a moment later, another worker would ask "Did you see that?!" When Tami turned, asking "See what?" The worker would say "That pretty woman just "vanished, into thin air"." In Tami's, daily, report, to Mr. Brown, she would report "This property has MORE than a haunted past. It is more like a "ghost motel". The worst part is, we dont seem to be able to tell the living, from the dead, until we search personnel files. This is, definitely, NO residual haunting. These people KNOW humans are present, and some, of the spirits, are downright helpful. That, and courteous. I just wish we could find out WHY they are present." When Mr. Brown would suggest "So, you dont think that they are "protective?". Tami would report "There HAS to be more to this. I can feel that there is a story, here. I just need to find out how to communicate, with the spirits." While the black mass seemed to be "keeping its distance" from the crew, Tami and I asked a favor, of the crew. A favor, normally NOT part of a restoration crews job. Tami handed out some digital recorders, asking each worker to carry one, on their person. When the workers asked "What for?" Tami would say "This way, if someone, especially someone you do not know, tries to converse, with you, about history. You wont have to take notes. You, simply, turn on the recorder, and record the conversation." When a worker would ask "What good will that do? We are just here to fix up the place. The ghosts are your concern". A co-worker would say "Dont you get it? We turn in the recorders, and they figure out who the spooks are." Tami would add "Once we know who they are, we can send them where they belong, and you can finish your work." While Tami's plan DID work, there were a few "minor" complications. One of these was when workers deecided to have sex, on the job-site. One of them must have forgotten to set aside their recorder, since, at the start of the passion, their actions switched the unit on. Thanks to G.S.2's computers, though, once we heard the sounds, of passion, Tami programmed the machine, to block out designated voices, and leave only the other sounds. The couple must have, really, been "going at it", since the computer picked up a "For shame", and an "In broad daylight". Thanks to the computers voice-profiler, it would be only half an hour, before the computer listed "Voices Unknown". While Tami was pondering this, Lysia reminded us "I told you. Acts, of PASSION, bring the spirits forth, with more potency." then she added "I would bet that, if he (me) and I were to step into the house, remove our clothes, and just snuggle, we would receive a reaction." When Tami asked "Why not step inside the house, and just kiss?" Lysia would say "Remember, this house reacts to acts of PASSION. I doubt a simple kiss, or even a whispered "I love you", would bring the spirits forth". While I understood that Lysia had a point, based upon real research, I, also, knew that Tami was thinking as a professional would think. Start small, and build. When I explained this, to Lysia, I laughed, when Lysia asked "What makes your partner more of an "expert", than me?" I would support Tami, by saying "Maybe one hundred cases, of handling spirits, including communication, and negotiating between the living and the dead". When Lysia would ask "You have handled a hundred locations?" Tami would correct her, saying "Maybe fifity locations, but about one hundred souls". This is when I would add "We will begin with Tami's plan. Start slow, and work up." When Lysia would ask "What happens if "slow" does not work, and the spirits get annoyed, and leave?" I would suggest "Then, we move on". In preparation, for the evenings activities, after the crew left the job site, I would have preferred to wear my coveralls, but Tami had me change into shorts, and a tank top. Like she said "The idea is to DRAW OUT the spirits." When Lysia came forth, in a G-string bikini, Tami would say "WAY over the top. We need to tone it down." Still, Lysia reminded Tami that the spirits, in this house, react to passion. Tami, however, would have Lysia change into shorts, and a halter. When Lysia would say "Not very sexy". Tami would remind Lysia "We are trying to draw the spirits out, not infuriate them". As Lysia and I prepared to enter the house, I would ask Tami, over the comms "Which room would you suggest that we start in?" Tami would consult the floor plans, then say "Why not try the Sitting Room." When I would agree, then ask "Which room is it?", Tami would say "Just ahead, on your left." Inside the Sitting Room, when Lysia found a couch, and went to get comfortable, Tami would suggest "The Love-Seat would be a better choice". Tami and I, both, suppressed a chuckle, as Lysia said "Party-pooper". Lysia was correct, about one thing. A simple embrace, a kiss, even soft words, barely, elicited a response, from this house. When Lysia would suggest that I carress her breast, while french-kissing her "Tami would say "Worth a try. Nothing to lose". It was not until my actions brought forth moans, of both joy, and passion, from Lysia, that the house reacted. Boy! Did it react. Furniture, books, lamps. The whole place seemed to "come alive". This is when I would call, to Tami "Round One, in action. Ready for Round Two". A few minutes after I THINK I heard Tami say "Roger that", that my partner entered the house. Once Tami entered, the house seemed to quiet down, for a moment. This is when Tami suggested that Lysia and I return to our actions. Maybe that would bring the spirits out to "play". When Lysia said "No way!", in a frightened voice, I realized that Lysia was much better, at research, than at actual interraction. This is when I asked my partner "Are you game?" Tami would say "We were sent here, to do a job. Mr. Brown expects results". When I joined Tami, in the hallway, I did not know it but Lysia watched, in annoyance, as Tami and I engaged in a DEEP kiss, and tender carress. Well, if we thought that my kissing Lysia would spark a response, we were in for "You aint seen nothin yet", when Tami and I shared a tender moment. The more fuss the spirits made, the deeper that we took the moment. Tami and I did not subside our actions, until a proper, female, voice would ask "Do you mind. This happens to be a family home." When Tami and I ceased our french-kiss, and Tami asked the woman "Are you ready to speak to us, now?" When the woman, dressed in a full, Victorian, dress, would say "Really". and Tami took that as a "No", we resumed kissing, atleast until the lady would say "Let us take this into the parlor. That is the only decent course of action, to be taken". When Tami broke, from our kiss, she had a smile, on her face, which put Lysia's smile to shame. In order to "provoke" more, of the spirits, into coming forth, in the parlor, Tami made a point of snuggling up, to me. (She also made a point of activating BOTH of our recorders.) Lysia was proven correct, about one thing. This house was NOT the first, built on this location. A minister would come forth, saying "I remember the days, when a chapel sat on these grounds. And not just any chapel. A chapel, which was ornamented in gold, and silver. Those were the days. You know that the crew, who built the chapel, constructed the building to amplify my voice." When Tami asked "May I inquire what became of the chapel?" The minister would say "We were divested, from the holy church, after an "inspector" saw the gold, and silver, and said we were withholding, from the church. We weren't. I swear. All of the metal was donated." When Tami would ask "What did the inspector do?" The minister would say "He called upon the loyal daughters, and sons, of Christ, to rip the gold and silver out of the building, and send it to the holy church. Once the church was stripped, he gave the command "In the name of the Lord, our God, I command those, present, to burn this sacriledge, to the ground". When Tami would whisper "Oh, my God. You were not inside the church, were you?" The ministers silence "spoke" volumes. As did his comment of "This was all I had. May God forgive me." After the minister came an interracial couple, who told us "My husbands, ivory, family, disowned him, completely, once they found he was making a life, with an ebony woman." Her husband would say "We wanted to make our own lives. We even moved away, from the village, to avoid racial tension. All we wanted was to be happy". When Tami asked "What happened?" The husband would say "I guess that we did not move far enough, away. A group came by, one night, while we slept, and burned the house down. By the time the fire was dying down, I dont know how, but I saw one of the fire-setters making the sign of the cross, then say "Let God's justice be done". Then, our hostess would say "The woman, who served you those cookies" When Tami would ask "What about her?" Our hostess would say "She was condemned since, on a single occassion, when her husband was away, for a few years, on a land-purchasing trip, she accepted another mans company. While she did her best, over the remainder of her life, to attone for the sin, the community never forgave her". When Tami would question "If her husband was away, for years, what did people expect the woman to do? Become a nun?" Our hostess would say "You do not understand our ways, anymore than we understand yours. In our world, couples took the words "Forsaking all others, keep thee only unto thy mate" most seriously." When Tami would ask "Just how LONG was the husband away? A year? Two years?" Our hostess would say "More like ten years." When Tami got excited, asking "Ten YEARS? What did people expect, of the woman?" Our hostess would say "He DID write. Atleast once per month. Oh, and dont worry. The wife did not bear a child, by her lover. She may not have been faithful, but she was proper." When the phantom crew-men, who aided with on-site accidents, appearred, as well as the man, who had argued, with the site-supervisor, Tami would learn that, in life, the men had done their best, to look after the wife, even after she took another man, as a lover. The men did her home repairs, and accepted meals, in return for their labor. When Tami asked our hostess "What happened to you, and your family?" A tall, broad-shouldered, solid, man appearred, at the womans side, and she told us "This is my husband. We had many, happy, years, in this house. Raised our children, and cared for our grand-children. So many happy, and joyous years. We love this place." Her husband would say "A-Men!" When Tami would ask "Do you not wish others to share in your joy, and happiness?" When the hostess would ask "Whatever do you mean?" Tami would suggest "If you let the crews finish restoring your home, then others might visit, and share in your joy". While the husband seemed un-certain, the wife would say "Please, pardon my impertinence, but I hope you are not refering to those im-polite brutes, which have been coming around, in recent years." When Tami would ask "That bad?" The woman would say "Such language, and from children, yet. Where have proper manners gone?" When Tami would suggest "A new world?", the wife would say "I prefer the old one. Maybe life was strict, but people had good manners. Children were behaved. Everyonne knew their place". The husband was nodding, in full agreement, with his wife. When Tami would ask "If you had a message, or a deal, with the local community, what would you like your neighbors to know?" The husband would say "We want our home RESPECTED. The only permission, for what you call "trash-talk", shall be for injuries. The times when I, myself, used im-polite language. If those children, from town, want to visit our property, they must learn RESPECT. This is NOT a brothel. We raised our family, right." When Tami would ask "Are you aware of any additional souls, which reside on this property?" The wife would say "Only travellers. People seeking a place, to rest, for a day, or two. Most of the spirits, within these walls, are what you call "transient". They move on." When Tami would ask "The black mass?" The husband would admit "My fault, I fear. I only wanted it to drive away those shameful children. I set it loose, when profanity exceeds what my beloved wife can stand." When Tami would ask "And, the workers?" The husband would say "Same thing. "trash talk". I was just hoping to draw someone, like you. Someone with whom my wife and I could make our complaints known. We do not mind the living, as long as they dont mess up the place. We just dont want our family to have to listen to such filthy language." The husband would, then, ask Tami "Miss, is that really too much to ask?" Tami had no answer. Shoot, neither did I. When Tami took the family's offer before the towns-people, it seems that the isssue "ripped" the town into different sections. One section, primarily comprised of the elderly, whom, from conversations, Tami knew were more in favor of the old days, and proper use of language. Then there was the other group. These were the people who insisted that they had the right to say, or do, anything, that they wanted to. I wont include their actual language, here, but I will say that the general concept was "We earned the right to talk however we want, and to do whatever we want. The law says so. No spooks gonna make us "bow down". When the construction contractors agreed that it might be a refreshing change, to hear regular words, used on the job-site, and less vulgarity, a few workers would announce their resignation, saying "Nobody gonna tell me HOW to talk". Tami would spend the next week, moderating the discussion, between the two sides. What she would report, to the Brown Agency, was "It will seem odd, however, I am noticing more people coming to support the family's side. Maybe I am just imagining it, but, those who insist they have "rights" are falling into the minority." (It should, also, be noted that, once Tami began her communications, with the spirits, from this house, Lysia packed her bags, and took a flight out. Lysia expressed her doubts, that the spooks would abide by any agreement.) And why should they? After all, mortal law was useless, against them. This is why Tami ended up moderating the agreement, even as a spirit came to me, saying "That is some woman you have, there." When I thanked the spirit, the spirit would ask "When are you going to make an honest woman out of her?" I would tell the spirit "I am not her type. She would be much happier with Conan the Barbarian". The spirit cheated me out, of a response, as they no-sooner asked "Are you sure?", then they dissolved. This is when I remembered how often the spirit world enjoyed tampering in human affairs. When the negotiations came to a point, where some, of the protesters would converse, with Tami, asking "What should I do. We fought, so long, and hard, for freedom of speech. Now, we are being told to give away that freedom". When Tami would ask "What is it that you are giving away?" the protesters would say "I guess, the ability to act as we want to?" When Tami would ask each protester "You mean that you WANT to talk like trash?" Each protester would seem lost, in thought, even as Tami would point out "You know, WE are having a discussion, and we dont need trash talk, to do this, do we". By the end of the month, Tami would be relieved to see that most of the protesters would be discussing things, with their "rivals". Less than a handful, of protesters, remained adamant that they had "rights". To cap the deal, some relatives, of the protesters, would appear, asking protesters "If you want to live your life, your way, why not move to a place, where there are people, like you?" When the protesters remained firm, saying "We have as much right, here, as anyone". The relatives would correct them, saying "You have the right to live your life. You are not required to live here". For reasons, which few people could understand, the last, of the protesters not only packed up, to move out, but what no one could understand was WHY did they burn their residences down? As for the home renovation, the contractors signed the same agreement, that workers signed. Everyone, involved, with the project, agreed. The use of foul/vulgar language would be limited to stressful moments. When Tami and I saw the spirits, of the home-owners, smiling, as work proceeded, and Tami saw the wifes bright smile, it was only then that she realized that she had snuggled up, to me. Tami, discreetly, moved a short distance away. (Was that dis-approval I saw, in the ghost wifes face, when Tami parted from me?) When it seemed that the black mass was no-longer being seen, Tami would file our report, with the Brown Agency. When Mr. Brown asked "Where did the last, of the protesters go?" Tami would say "It seems they did not want anyone to know. They left no forwarding address". The WAY Mr. Brown would say "Good work! Both of you." Tami and I knew what was coming. Even before Mr. Brown would say "I am forwarding a file to you. Our team, in a village, somewhere near Fallujah, are requesting a review. Something is happening, and they want your take, on the matter". When Tami would say "But, sir, Americans are about as "welcome", in the Middle East, as the K.K.K. would be welcome, at an NAACP meeting. They have hated us since Washington D.C. invaded their nation, in 2001." When Mr. Brown would ask "Would it help if I were to tell you that American Invasion Command is willing to guarantee your safety, should a case develop?" I would "intrude", responding "Sir, if you give us a direct order, then we must obey. Personally, I would rather wait until the invasion is over, and locals fury, at America, has died down." When Mr. Brown would ask "And WHEN would that be? Remember that Washington has declared that the invasions wont end until the last, of the anti-American resistence, has been CRUSHED into the ground. Who knows how many CENTURIES that may take". Tami and I agreed to just review the file. After all, WHO wants to live "forever"?