Free The Voices by F. R. Tallis Page A

that her slender figure held his attention and he had to force himself to avert his gaze. He bowed his head and studied the book. The author’s name was Konstantin Raudive. There was no professorial prefix. Beneath the title, Breakthrough, Christopher read: ‘An Amazing Experiment in Electronic Communication with the Dead’. Inside, he discovered some drawings of tape recorders and circuit diagrams. This was surely the book that Kaminsky had referred to.
    Christopher took the book to the till. ‘Looks interesting.’
    The young woman nodded. He gave her a ten-pound note and asked her if she’d read it.
    ‘No,’ she replied, ‘but it’s supposed to be really good. I’m more into past lives. You know, hypnosis, regression . . .’
    She was obviously bored and wanted to talk, but Christopher recognized that if he delayed his departure, he would be committing himself to an entirely fraudulent conversation. His inclination to tarry had much more to do with the transparency of the young woman’s clothing than any interest he might have in her views on reincarnation. He felt annoyed with himself, guilty, but within seconds something like an alchemical process had transmuted all of his guilt into blame. If Laura had been more sexually responsive of late, then the shaded circles that showed through the young woman’s thin cotton vest wouldn’t have been nearly so distracting.
    Christopher took his change and said, ‘Thanks for your help.’
    ‘See you around,’ the young woman replied.
    He flattered himself that a fleeting shadow of disappointment had passed across her face. With his book tucked under his arm, Christopher made his way down tothe vegetarian cafe in the basement. It was entirely empty but for a hairy individual, probably no more than nineteen years of age, standing behind a serving bay of heated metal trays. Christopher bought himself a flapjack and a cup of tea, pulled a chair from beneath one of the old wooden tables and sat down to examine his purchase.
    The bulk of the book consisted of transcripts. Obscure, telegraphic communications that didn’t make much sense without the explanatory notes that the author had provided. They were presented in a variety of languages with English translations. An introductory chapter detailed a range of recording techniques involving microphones, radios and diodes. Christopher read these sections with considerable interest. They were quite technical but not beyond his understanding. He then looked at the photographic plates. Dr Raudive, a balding gentleman with glasses, was shown operating tape machines, conversing with engineers or posing with his scientific collaborators. One of these was described as ‘Germany’s leading parapsychologist’. Another was a Swiss physicist. Christopher had half expected Breakthrough to be a sensational polemic, full of outrageous claims, but it was nothing of the sort. It was more like a treatise, restrained, meticulous and endorsed by respected members of the international academic community. Clearly, in certain circles,the appearance of spirit voices on tape was an accepted phenomenon.
    Christopher closed the book and tasted his flapjack. It was extremely good, a weighty agglomeration of oats and raisins, bound together with honey. As he chewed, his mouth filled with sweetness. He thought about the voices that he had recorded. If it were true that the speakers were spirits trying to communicate with the living, then how utterly extraordinary it was that they should have chosen to make their existence known by interfering with his tape machines. An alternative possibility was that the recordings were simply opportunistic: that the conditions in his studio were, for whatever reason, favourable and that the spirits had no special interest in him or his family. Or perhaps choice and intention were entirely irrelevant in this context? Perhaps the tape machine had simply captured random phrases floating in the ether?
    Just thinking