King’s College rang to the chatter and tramp of students, flowing in currents to and from their classes or the library. Here and there could be seen a teacher, moving against the current in their bubbles of academic status and purpose. In one of these bubbles a tall man walked, brown eyed and dreamy, looking more like a poet than a professional Theologist and Lecturer.
“Now, what do we think, of thoughts?” The silence of utter incredulity reared its head.
“They’re…ideas?” Ventured one student.
“Chemical processes!” Cried another, the self declared atheist of the class.
” Sometimes they are the will of God, if they are good.” Murmured one of those near the front of the hall.
“Mental energy, moving in waves.” Said one student, a bright one at that. Young Michael had a subtle, active mind, undoubtedly swimming in waves of energy.
“Indeed Michael, though all are right in one fashion or another. But what do you think of them?” With awesome speed, confusion and incredulity returned. What the hell did the barmy old prof mean this time, was what Dr Solomon got from it.
“Chaotic, there’s little order.”
So it began again, until the room was alive with conflicting paradigms, not mere whimsical thoughts. Solomon smiled as these various thought groups did battle, were defeated or victorious. All changed though. Whether victor or victim, all changed.
“Class!” he cried, clapping his hands then spreading them wide, gathering their attention as one might a pile of clothes. “There is but one conclusive answer. Thoughts are energy, and what do we know about energy? It never dies, or ceases to be.” He drew a simple stick man on the pad before him, the projector rendering his sketch, much enlarged, on the screen behind him. Then came thought lines, radiating from the stick man. Would they understand this?
“Now how many of you have heard of Noetics?” No hands went up, no cries of assent were made. One nod came from Michael. Solomon knew that would come, and ignored it, as Michael surely knew he would.
“Really, for theology students, your reading is very limited if you’ve missed this subject.” Dr Searcher said solemnly as he continued his sketch, placing various dark, vaguely circular squiggles around the central stick man.
“Noetic science is the study of the human consciousness, and may one day provide that controvertial bridge between man, god and science.” A few eyebrows went up. He had their attention, and basked in it.
“Let’s consider our stick man…” He thought of Jonah then, who always had better words.
“Our stick man is you, or me, or anyone else anywhere in the world…” the lecture hall reverberated to a deliberate, measured knocking on the door. Surely not…
“Jonah! A pleasure to see you!” Exclaimed the professor mid-lecture, throwing rangy arms round a slight, gentle figure, dressed in a light grey suit, the color of country rainfall. The little Doctor looked up at the screen and announced in a modulated, refined English accent.
“Class! Turn your attention and intentions, to that screen.” His complete focus on the stage and the screen rolled over the room, till every pair of eyes was riveted as Searcher retook it.
“Let us continue with the assertion that thoughts are energy. Now, what can move energy?” a brief silence, broken, surprisingly, by Amelia, a dark, curly-haired beauty of a woman.
“Only more energy.” Solomon smiled, a wide and dazzling thing as he retrieved a pointer from beside the podium. Jonah had taken a seat at the front, next to the quiet christian girl.
“Indeed, so. Our man thinks a thought. Then he decides he wishes this thought recorded and expressed, thus, media, the written word, this.” He announced, holding up a small pen drive.
“However, there are many, many steps involved, all requiring energy, between the moment of thought, and the act of recording it, in all modern, mainstream media.”
Jonah watched his old friend as he led the class through a long, winding tale regarding the various spiritual leanngs of amazon tribes and their belief in the power of totems and crystals. The old boy’s favourite subject. Jonah couldnt surpress a grin as Solomon’s infectious energy moved among the class, not quite reaching all, but reaching enough. This lot would pass.
“So we can arrive at the conclusion, that it may be possible one day, to move that awesomely complex construct of energy that is the human consciousness, or soul, into another physical medium.” He eyed certain students.
“This, I know, is a delicate notion, and a line of science humanity should pursue only with great care. Now, I shan’t bore you any longer, go out there and soak up the sun, peace and blessing to you all.” He finished, aware that his last comment might just have inflamed a few of the more zealous attendants to his lecture. As students filed out, murmuring in quiet, serious conversation or looking deeply troubled, Jonah slipped trough the snaking procession and shook his friend’s hand.
“How is Daniel?” Asked Solomon. Jonah smiled, shaking his head disparagingly.
“Careful old friend, confidentiality is the word these days. But he’s well, nothing that won’t clear up in, oh, three to seven days.” Solomon grinned back and began putting away the lecture things in his slow-seeming methodical fashion. Solomon’s mind didn’t move on prosiac matters on most occasions, but even Jonah could see some trouble, quite real, beneath his lofty daydreams. Such are the mental defences of the academic.
“It is not just for him you worry?” Enquired Jonah, simply. The room echoed slightly to his words now though, lending them a ring of command. He knew though, in his heart, what the trouble was. Angelique.
“You know, old friend.” Solomon sighed as he raised the screen and flicked off the main lights, leaving only only the pale white striplights, glowing in the floor, health and safety harmoniously worked into the design of the building itself.
At the college gates they parted, the mighty figure of Solomon stooping to his shorter, slighter friend. With a final wave they headed their seperate ways, Jonah to his motorbike, Solomon to his own car, a hyrid engine Ford Fusion in excellent condition, the blue model with white stripes. The bleep as it opened felt like a death knell. The roar as it started, the sound of oblivion and as he pulled out of the car park and hit the main road, Solomon sighed and prepared for battle with the worst enemy a man can have. His wife.
I hope you enjoyed this first chapter of Immaculate. More will follow in the coming weeks, and the strange knowledge of Solomon and Jonah will take them to surprising places, into the very maw of a metaphorical whale that will alter their lives forever.