Fourteen Black Paintings by Peter Gabriel

From the pain come the dream.

From the dream come the vision.

From the vision come the people.

And from the people come the power.

From this power come the change…

Inside an ancient pyramid. Somewhere in Egypt.

The Kulthan psi-dampening mechanism slowly made its final cycle before it seized up completely. As the remaining radiation flooded into the Earth’s atmosphere the aging power source emitted it’s last few electrons of energy before the lights faded away leaving the alien equipment in total blackness.

This technology had continued to function well after its creators had departed for pastures new and had, up until now, prevented any telepaths from becoming aware of the amazing powers at their disposal. When the radiation finally ceased it ushered in a new era for the Earth and for someone out there in the world things were about to change beyond their wildest imaginings…

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Somewhere in Surrey, England

"And that, my boy is my final word!" Shouted John’s father up the staircase. The argument was brought to an abrupt end by the loud slamming of John’s bedroom door. "If your mother was here…" But his father knew that there was no point in continuing to shout after his son. Returning to the lounge he muttered under his breath. "Damn teenagers, always too eager to grow up!"

Once within the relative safety of his room John slumped down on the bed. Why couldn’t his father see the need for him to attend the archaeological dig? It would be the summer holidays soon and school was almost over for the year. Dr. Coleman had invited him in person; a privilege not afforded many students of his age. The opportunity for him to expand his knowledge was enormous. Didn’t his dad want him to do well at school?

Lying back on the pillow he began to daydream about the wonders that awaited him in the caves of Southern France. As his mind wandered through plans for his summer holidays strange thoughts began to impinge upon his consciousness.

"Huh!" He said sitting up abruptly. Gradually his mind cleared and he was able to think clearly again. Shrugging he lay back down. Almost immediately he felt a sharp stabbing pain in his temple. Raising his hand to his forehead he sat up again.

Once more the intrusion vanished as abruptly as it had started. ‘Headache?’ He thought to himself. ‘I haven’t had a headache in years.’

"Why don’t you turn over the set…" Whispered a distant voice.

"Who said that?" Said John looking anxiously around the room. "Is there some one here?" But as soon as he said it he knew the stupidity of the question. There was no way that a stranger could have gained access to the house without somebody noticing. He had been studying in his room for many hours, only leaving for a few minutes to have the brief argument with his father. It was impossible for someone to have passed them in the hall and made it up the stairs without one of them realising.

Dismissing the voice he swung his legs onto the floor and reached for his notepad and pen that still lay on the dresser where he had discarded it earlier. But as he extended his hand the voice returned; louder this time and echoing around his skull with a resonant quality that no human voice could possibly possess.

John froze. "Who’s there?" He demanded. "Come out and show yourself!"

It was then that the headache returned, the suddenness of the intense pain made him wince. This was accompanied by not just one but many voices. It was like a group of people were holding a conversation right in front of him. But he knew that there was no one there. He was also alert enough to realise that this was no ordinary conversation. Each voice was talking about a separate thing; they seemed more like the random musings of a disassembled bunch of strangers than a really coherent group.

Angered by the intrusion he turned and thumped the pillow with his fist. "Get out of my head!"

This action seemed to have the desired affect for the voices abruptly stopped leaving him feeling bewildered and afraid. Quickly regaining his composure John set his mind to fathoming out what precisely had happened to him. After some deliberation the most logical conclusion was that he had been asleep and had dreamt the voices. Satisfied, at last, by this explanation he took hold of the writing pad and began to re-read the revision notes that he had made earlier.

Without warning the voices returned, more insistent this time and accompanied by flashes of visual images that he knew were not his own.

As the pain in his temples grew he curled his hand up into a tight fist and banged it down onto the bed beside him. This outburst of anger momentarily broke through the cacophony of sound and vision giving him clarity of thought once again. Lifting his hand up for closer inspection he knew, almost instinctively, that he had found a solution to the problem. When the voices returned a few seconds later he was ready for them…

Clenching his fist so tightly that his nails almost cut into the palm of his hand he concentrated upon this shape blocking every other thought from his mind. When he could stand it no more he slamed his hand down, as hard as he could, into the softness of the pillow and the voices began to fade. Pleased by his prompt actions he smiled as the voices receded.

"Aha!" His tone was one of curiosity rather than anger this time. "Now I’ve got you. What ever or who ever you are I know that I’m stronger than you…"

This time he was fully prepared for the pain. As soon as it began he clenched his hand into a tight fist and concentrated on the contours of the fingers. Gradually the pain faded into the background of his mind. As the last vestiges of discomfort disappeared he slowly opened the fist until his hand lay fully open on the pad in front of him.

Taking a deep breath he stood up and walked briskly to the desk on the other side of the room. Searching through the tangled mass of paperwork he eventually found the book he was looking for.

Without a second thought for the lost opportunity to attend an archaeological dig he opened the dictionary and began to search for a particular section. There were new topics that demanded his attention, new plans for him to make towards his summer holiday. Archaeology could wait.

Finding the definitions he required he began to read aloud.

"Parapsychology n. Study of mental phenomena outside sphere of normal psychology (Hypnosis, telepathy etc.)… Psychical a. Of the soul or mind; of phenomena and conditions apparently outside the domain of physical law."

Jackie Clark
jackie@effdee.demon.co.uk