99 Palms: Horn OK Please (3 page)

It was an awesome cocktail, it was special. There was a certain something very different about it.

A broken piece of a Clay tablet:

“Good night, folks, we’ve had a long, heavy day, sweet dreams”, said Goose as he made himself comfortable in his sleeping bag.

“Turn off the light, bitch, you’re closer to the switch”, quipped Derek to Goose who had no desire to get up just like the rest of us after a day full of history lessons.

“Snug as a bug now, dude, what a day!” exclaimed Hound as he enjoyed the warmth of his sleeping bag as soon as he tucked himself in.

I got up and switched off the lights and the room was engulfed in darkness, spare the serene glow of moonlight that bathed the room in dim light. My mind wandered, trying to make sense of the events of today.

“I have a feeling we’re onto something big here. You know the feeling that a zebra would have when it knows it’s about to lose its stripes? I have that feeling. I wonder what that fakir meant when he said that some secrets are best kept secrets”, said Hound. It was obvious that we all had similar thoughts.

“Shut up, you fool. It doesn’t take much to freak you out anyways”, I said, trying to shake away the image of the loony fakir that seemed to have been etched in my mind.

I saw Hound staring at a small pebble or something. He seemed to be lost in it. His soul-pebble. Hell! It was just a broken piece of some clay tablet that had him enchanted.

“What’s that? Where did you get that from”? I asked, hoping it wouldn’t be one of those pebbles from Kalinga.

“It’s a piece of clay pot or a tablet with some strange, tiny inscriptions on it, Chief. It looks really ancient. I found it among the pebbles near the ruins where we were sitting”, said Hound, completely fascinated by the object.

“Asshole! After all that happened today, must you have picked up that cursed object from that cursed place?” hollered Derek.

“Now, don’t tell me that you believe in that old wives tale and a half-naked fakir? Don’t you guys get it that this might be a really old thing? Look! It’s got inscriptions on it, I can tell it’s the same script that we saw on the rock edicts. Dude, this is Brahmi script. This is cool stuff!” retorted Hound, trying to defend himself as we ganged up on him.

“You’re an ass, Hound. Haven’t you still learned that we should never play around with stuff that’s beyond our comprehension? Nitwit told us not to pick up anything from that cursed place. Well, I do believe that he would have said so for a reason, wouldn’t he?” Goose thundered.

Maybe, Hound knew that he had done something stupid for he kept quiet.

“You’re a moron, Hound. I can sense it, there is trouble brewing and you just invited it”, I said, trying to sense if Hound felt any remorse then.

“If anything strange happens, Goose, you have the number of Dr. Natalie Jackson, right? Nitwit told us to contact her in case of trouble?” replied Hound, finally accepting that he may not have done a very wise thing. Why mess around with the unknown?

“You bet, Hound. I can sense that we shall be going to Puri from Bhubaneshwar tomorrow morning, thanks to you. Let’s hope the night goes well. Goodnight”, said Goose, turning over to the side, calling it a day.

“By the way, what was that foolish fakir ranting about? He said something about the ‘Nine’. Anybody knows what the hell ‘Nine’ signifies?” asked Hound.

“Nope, no clue, I’m sure none of us have”, I replied, pulling up the zip of the sleeping bag right up to my neck. It was a bit chilly that night.

“Dude! ‘Nine’ is a number that comes before Ten, and that’s all I can tell you right now”, mumbled Goose already half-asleep by now.

“But since you’re the smart one, smart enough to pick up broken clay tablets from cursed places and not be scared of them, why worry? ‘Nine’ would be something equally stupid! Go figure!” said Derek sarcastically as he fluffed up his pillow and dozed off.

The psycho dream:

The cool night breeze wafted into the room through the window. It was more like a gush of sudden wind in the still of the night like some strange apparition had walked into the room. In the faint moonlight, I could see Hound holding on to the piece of clay tablet still. Maybe, it was just a harmless piece of shit and we’re just making it hard for him, I wondered. Maybe, our poverty was making us superstitious.

My brain was woozy after the concoction Goose had made up that evening. He’d poured in exactly 69 ml of Bacardi, 69 ml of Redbull, garnished the drink with five mint leaves each and it had tasted good. Each one of us had had five rounds of his concoction. I wasn’t feeling drunk, I felt strange.

Evident that everyone was psyched out as well after the fakir incident today, I closed my eyes and dozed off into dreamland…I saw the same, dratted, recurring dream that night. It had happened yet again after tanking up on Goose’s weird concoction!

***

CHAPTER THREE

***

Roses are red and violets are blue,

Secret Societies exist even today, with secrets known to few;

They are there for a reason for pure science is not a toy,

Our world’s unstable, megalomaniacs are out to destroy;

The Nine Unknown have been around for long, it is one such,

A Secret Society, driven by pure science, they know much;

They’ve written nine books, each in one field,

Hidden from the world, or the fate of mankind is sealed;

A fakir knows much, we had happened to meet one,

He came out of nowhere, he came as the Soothsayer of doom;

We were on the g fields of Kalinga, we were there for a song,

Hound had picked up a souvenir, now that was wrong;

We were helped by knowledgeable people, guided by fate,

We’re trying to find a link between a dream and reality;

Here we are, the bounty hunters to the core,

Trying to find lost treasures, find the lost city of yore;

Paradise, is a pipe dream, we’re looking for the City of gold,

The Nine Unknown know that it exists, it’s another world;

If smiles and Imagination make you say ‘Cheese’

Drive on, for that’s the philosophy of Horn OK Please…

***

The recurring Dream:

The concoction that Goose made us drink made me drowsy and I was asleep in no time. It was a terrible night and I had a nightmare. My recurring nightmare about me being there in Kalinga while the bloody battle was raging on. I saw the massacre. Emperor Ashoka stopped at nothing.

Then I saw the transformation in Emperor Ashoka as I felt his pain when a woman yelled at him, carrying her dead son in her arms. I saw blood on his arms, I saw the clay tablet pinned to his chest armor, and then I saw myself in a very large cave with no end, no beginning. A place full of books and I saw Emperor Ashoka turn to dust. The nine apparitions zeroed in on me and I woke up with a start…

A terrible morning hangover:

“Dude, I had the strangest dream last night and I have a bad hangover now”, said Hound scratching himself as he tried to get out of his sleeping bag.

“What’s a good hangover, bitch? I had a terrible dream last night. I dreamt about the Kalinga war and Emperor Ashoka.” Derek shot back, as he continued to work on fixing coffee for us.

“What did you say? What was your dream about?” I exclaimed in surprise, not able to hold back my curiosity.

“Don’t tell me you saw yourself in the Kalinga war, watching Emperor Ashoka’s killing spree. Don’t tell me about the wailing woman and don’t tell me about the big cave with books? Please don’t tell me that those nine apparitions were zeroing in on you and you woke up with a start?” Goose exclaimed, his eyes almost popping out of his eye-sockets. It was evident that he’d had the same dream as well.

“Wow! Guys, this has been a recurring dream of mine and I just cannot believe that you all saw the exact same thing in your dreams as well. We told you, Hound, not to pick up that strange piece of broken clay tablet!” I said trying to gather my wits. Derek passed the coffee around and spoke softly, “Chief, this is not the first time I had this dream. I’ve had this strange dream many times before”.

Hound stared at Derek in utter disbelief while Goose said, “Damn! This is unbelievable. I’d say the same thing. What’s more, I always get this dream after having five shots of the concoction I brew with Redbull, Bacardi and Mint leaves. I’ve always woken up with a hangover.”

Hound finally managed to mumble. “Drink up your coffee quick, mates. There is something very strange going on. Let’s do what Nitwit, our guide from yesterday, asked us to do. Head out to Puri immediately and meet Dr. Natalie Jackson. Maybe, she’s a shrink. I’m really sorry about the clay piece from yesterday, dudes, maybe that’s what’s been causing all this shit. I hate this recurring dream myself. I’d like to get to the bottom of it.”

“The broken piece of clay tablet with inscriptions may very well have to do something with all of this, Hound. Now that we know that we have been having this as a recurring dream after shots since a long time ago and the fact that you picked up the piece of clay only yesterday clearly proves that it doesn’t cause these dreams. So chill! Let’s get ready and roll, quick”, I said as I gulped down the coffee and started packing up.

The Psychologist:

Heading out from Bhubhaneshwar, Goose stepped on the pedal. We were on our way to Puri district, about an hour’s drive from where we were. Puri is one of the famous pilgrimage centers in India. This seaside town is dominated by the old Jagannath Temple that the European soldiers of the past called ‘The White Pagoda’.

The Sun Temple at Konark was the Black Pagoda for them. We headed out straight to the seaside via Puri’s crowded main street called Bada Danda (don’t ask me why it’s called that – the big stick). We cut through to the other side of town to the Marine Parade and checked into a resort well within a couple of hours.

En route, Hound had called up Dr. Natalie Jackson, the name and number that Nitwit had given us. She’d asked us to check into this resort which was very close to her house. We were to meet her in an hour.

“The famous four, I presume?” a sultry woman in her early thirties greeted us as she opened the door.

“Yes, ma’am, thank you for your time and really grateful that you agreed to meet us at such a short notice”, Hound replied politely as she beckoned us inside. It was a beautiful duplex house, the front door opened into a nice porch. The porch overlooked a beautiful garden that had colorful flowers of all exotic varieties.

“No worries, follow me, come, let’s go to my library. Nitwit is a good man, he has helped me a lot with my research”, said the sultry woman with a sexy figure. Hell! If this is what doctors really look like, I wouldn’t mind going in for some education.

We followed her till we entered a large hall full of bookshelves all around. The house was clean and the library was huge. The room was fairly big and had a musky smell of old books to it. There were comfortable beanbags all around and a study table at the center. It was evident that Dr. Natalie was an avid reader. Well, at least she bought many books and looked intelligent.

She must have been around thirty-two, slender, dusky and really sexy. She knew she was a desirable woman. She wore a pair of worn out blue jeans and a white shirt. Her hair was neatly bunched up into a bun, an ivory stick ran through it to keep it in place. Devoid of any make up, she looked every inch a hottie.

“Tea anyone? Please help yourself and make yourself comfortable. Tell me how can I help you”, Natalie pointed to a flask kept in the corner of the room as she made herself comfortable on the chair that was kept by the study table.

We parked ourselves into cozy, coffee-colored beanbags, helped ourselves to some really horrid tea while Hound filled her in with all the details starting right from the Fakir-episode at Dhauli hill to just a couple of hours ago when we all realized that we had been having the same, recurring dream.

She seemed to take it all in while she lit up a cigarette and then looked at the ceiling for a good five minutes, playing with the piece of broken clay tablet that Hound had passed on to her to examine. We all looked up to the ceiling as well, wondering what she was looking at. There was nothing there but a rickety, old, noisy fan that made more sound than circulate the air around us.

Finally she spoke…

The pieces come together:

“Hmm. What you must realize is that there are three pieces to the whole incident. You need to have the guts to digest what I’m about to tell you in strict confidence:

(A)
      
These are not simple dreams. These are telepathic signals you four have been receiving. These signals seem to be coming to you from a long lost Secret Society of evolved beings that uses telepathy to communicate.

(B)
      
The nature of the dream refers to a particular Secret Society that has something to do with Emperor Ashoka. Thought it is supposed to be a legend, this Secret Society of ‘Nine Unknown’ is real. The Fakir incident points to that.

(C)
      
The piece of broken clay tablet that Hound picked up from the ancient battlefield of Kalinga has something to do with it all. I don’t know what it can do, but you better hold onto it till you figure out. I’ll give you a wild goose to chase. No not you, Goose!”

“You mean, it’s all connected? Wow! I knew that we’re onto something big. Keep rollin’, Natalie!” said Hound as he let out a low whistle.

“Yes, I shall try to help you with my knowledge not because I need anything from you, but because I am obligated to tell you”, said Natalie in a flat voice as she brought her defenses up, “Listen up for what I’m about to tell you, not many know. You will need all this knowledge if you want to stay alive.”

She did scare us a bit then.

The Dream & Secret Societies

She looked at each one of us, turn by turn, making sure she had eye contact and then she spoke in sotto voice, “Scholars who have dabbled in a certain area of specialization have long been faced with the challenge of knowing that the world of physics ends at a certain point where meta-physics begins. The physics we know of today has its boundaries defined by Newton, Aristotle, Archimedes and other such brilliant minds. Beyond the conventional definition of science, the facts as we know of today is a realm of pure fantasy, of the undefined. That’s because some say that not all human beings are equally evolved. Now, look at you, for example…”, said Natalie with a lost look on her face.

“Don’t worry, keep going, Ma’am. We may be thick, but the important things do register somehow”, I said trying to instill a dose of confidence in her, fully aware of the blank stares she was receiving.

“Perfect when we are the facts and you are my fantasy”, quipped Derek, trying to lighten up the atmosphere, “Sorry! A Joke!”

“Hah! Bad joke, Derek. This is serious shit. So pay attention from your heart and mind, if you want to interpret your dream”, said Natalie sarcastically as she took the sting out of Derek, “Look, if magnetic waves can traverse the earth or a cellular network for global voice communication today, what makes us stop from believing that thought waves can travel back and forth for thought transmission? Right? We know for a fact today that all bodies emit invisible forces, so why can’t there be apparitions or astral bodies?

“Ah! Heavenly bodies exist, Doctor, I am looking at one right now”, said Goose with a chuckle, unable to hold back complimenting the beautiful shrink in front of us.

Barely blushing, she spoke with a sense of purpose in her voice, “When we see something that falls beyond the comprehension of science as we know it today, most of us tend to believe that this is either magic, occult, supernatural or something beyond. I am aware of such phenomenon in many of my patients who have equally low or slightly higher IQ than yours & experience similar phenomenon, maybe this is the world of spirits and ghosts from a different dimension. You agree?”

We nodded mutely. 

“You may call them dreams, but you know for a fact that not many people can have the same dream at the same time. What’s equally intriguing is the fact that the occurrence of this dream is directly linked to the number of shots of the concoction that Goose brews with Redbull, Bacardi and Mint. Maybe, it means that your puny mind is absolutely whacked out when you open your senses to feel more of the universe around you”, said Natalie barely able to conceal her laughter.

She looked beautiful when she tried to suppress a smile. Toying with the broken piece of clay tablet, Hound’s treasure, she leaned forward at the table, “You’re probably moving on a tangential plane of thought by projecting yourselves farther and farther into space and time from your existing physical coordinates in the universe. That’s why you have been successful in receiving telepathy signals from evolved beings. Call it a bad connection, a communication leakage, a cross-connection or what have you to, but you are tuned into a different level of reality post your binge. You move to a point where the future has no correlation to your present and the past has been rendered unusable by the universal spread of your lowly thoughts. You are like puny receivers from a powerful transmitter. Are you with me so far?”

“Yes. Please go on. We’re not as dumb as we look”, quipped Derek, mildly irritated. I knew he was bullshitting her. What she said went right over my head, straight through Derek’s ears. Hound and Derek looked constipated for thought; the look on the face said it all.

“Right! So, the fact that a group of highly evolved human beings who reach a higher state of consciousness than the majority of mankind would lead us to a conclusion that such a society can only communicate between themselves. Tell me, how many scientists would an Albert Einstein be able to communicate with in his days? Or a Galileo or Kepler?” said Natalie excitedly.

She probably realized that she couldn’t evince the slightest bit of glee in us. Keeping a straight face, Natalie said, “See, in our normal life, we hardly use a tenth of our potential resources. Ninety percent of our mind is unconscious or in a dream-like state. So the probability of you reaching a higher level of consciousness while you dream or when you sleep is far higher than what you all could collectively achieve while you are awake. You must understand that very well.”

“Or maybe when we’re drunk or stoned or both”, said Derek as a matter-of-factly.

“So our dream was not just a dream but these are telepathic messages being played over and over again to us like some irritating Interactive Voice Recognition (IVR) menu you get to hear when you call your bank. Press ‘6’ if you want to enter, press ‘9’ if you want to exit…right?” quizzed Goose as he shifted his butt on the beanbag from one side to the other.

Natalie stared at Goose in disgust and spoke with disdain, “Bingo! No wonder you are a bird and I recommend that you should be psycho-analyzed for drawing up such ridiculous analogies!”

The Dream & the Fakir

“So, one, my assessment of your case would be that your dreams are not just dreams, but signals. This obviously takes place like a cross-connection once you’re tanked up on the concoction. It is evident that this is not a calling from higher beings, but you have tapped into by serendipity. Secondly, this could be very clearly a message from the ‘Nine Unknown’, we now know they exist. The fakir could sense it and so he wanted you all to scoot. Now what about the ‘Nine Unknown’ men?” said Natalie, trying to spot a sign of intelligence in my dull eyes.

“Yes, what about them? I’m worried about them too”, I empathized as I refilled my cup of tea.