Sample from A Child's Eye View

Over weight, clear signs of stress, dishevelment to an extent that suggested a disregard for personal appearance, probably hadn’t even had a smear test for years.

He couldn’t help himself. As his friend approached his table in the Golden Pheasant pub. Doctor Williams completed the swift medical audit out of care and habit rather than mischief. He stood to greet her, “Sarah, how nice to see you, thanks for agreeing to meet up like this.”

Sarah Whiting was forty six years old, married to a farmer and more often than not, looked as though she had just come from a romp in the hay. Her fifteen stones had resolutely resisted sieges from diet clubs and self-help programmes whilst her clothes were a haphazard record of visits to charity shops, though often including designer labels. Her shock of auburn hair added further to her wild look though these days it included a sprinkling of grey. All of that belied her sharp intellect and absolute dedication to her mission in life, as a Child Protection Officer.

They had worked closely together on two occasions, both involving young patients in his practice and had become firm friends, though they only managed to meet up once a year or so, often for lunch as they had that day. This time though he had an agenda and had implied as much when they made arrangements the previous week.

Since both had limited free time they consulted the menu and he went to the bar to order, returning with two small shandies.

“I’m all agog. What’s this great secret you want to share with me, your knighthood perhaps?”

“Something far stranger than that, though I have a bit of a monkey on my back as well, one that I would like to share with someone.” He paused, “I’ve come across a confirmed case of child abuse and not reported it.” He waited for a response and received the one he’d expected.

“You wouldn’t have done that and wouldn’t be sitting there admitting to misconduct unless there was a reason. I’ll therefore wait until you’ve finished before calling you a bloody fool.”

He nodded, and told her what he had come to call ‘Sam’s Story’ but detailed Graham’s role in strictly factual terms. Limited therefore to the observation of the wounds whilst on the beach and the visit to the house. He added that the custody agreements had been signed by both parents and were awaiting court approval. In the meantime the child had shown a full recovery and seemed extremely happy. He was cheerful and communicative, with no indicators suggesting longer term issues. He stopped there.

Their sandwiches had been brought to the table and Sarah paused thoughtfully and swallowed her mouthful, “So, if this child continues through his childhood without further ado and since I assume the mother has visiting rights, we must hope that her boyfriend keeps his hands off the child, you might, and I stress might avoid censure.” She held up her hand, “I know, it’s not a legal requirement, but it is a massively important protocol in a very sensitive area. So, may I call you a bloody fool now?”

“You may.” He startled her by taking her hand, “That is all true as far as it goes and I think I may have made the same decision in any event, you know what it can mean for a child in these cases, and here was a loving father willing to take his son in under a valid custody agreement. But there’s more, and this time I don’t have a rule book to refer to. For that matter I don’t have anything to refer to.”

He described his meeting with Graham, the man’s background, his injuries and quiet unassuming manner. It was clear that Sam thought the world of him. Without pause he then related Graham’s story, omitting nothing.

She allowed him to finish before responding. “That’s preposterous. My dear man, this luncheon is becoming alarming. You haven’t been dipping your fingers into the pharmacy have you?”

He chuckled at her jest but there was an element of concern there. “So you don’t believe in telepathy then?”

“No, do you?”

This time he needed a few moments to marshal his thoughts, “The human brain is an astonishing organ and as yet we know little about it, relatively that is. We know a great deal but it has additional reserves and potential that we can only guess at. The American military has been studying telepathy for a long time but other, more intellectual bodies are studying it too. I’ve always maintained a healthy scepticism about it but articles appear from time to time. This is one I kept, though it took a bit of finding. I dug it out after meeting Mr Parsons.”

He handed the cutting over. She put on the spectacles that had hung around her neck and settled back in her seat to read it.

It was from the Guardian, dated 18th September the previous year.

Telepathy

by

Mark Pilkington

‘At last week's British Association meeting, Professor Robert Morris of Edinburgh University's Koestler parapsychology unit announced that his team's experiments continue to suggest the reality of telepathy.

While Morris avoids the T word, preferring the broader "anomalous cognition", his team's research is merely the tip of a very ancient iceberg. Herodotus recorded the first known telepathy experiment when, in 550BC, King Croesus of Lydia challenged seven famed oracles to tell his messengers exactly what he was doing on a given day. Only the Pythia, the priestess of Apollo at Delphi, answered correctly - Croesus was making lamb and turtle stew in a bronze kettle. The tale may be apocryphal, and Croesus's misinterpretation of the oracle's advice eventually led to his defeat - but as an experiment, parapsychologists admit it wasn't bad.

Modern interest in thought transference arose in late 18th-century France, when it was observed as a side effect of Franz Mesmer's proto-hypnotic work. The term telepathy - meaning distant occurrence or feeling - was coined by Frederic Myers, a founder of the Society for Psychical Research, in 1882. Telepathy was a hot topic in fin de siécle salon culture, perplexing great minds from Oscar Wilde to Sigmund Freud.

In the 1920s and 30s, JB Rhine's experiments using Karl Zener's symbol cards captured the public imagination and popularised the notion of extra sensory perception. Rhine's dry statistics - still a hallmark of the science - were supplemented by the conviction expressed in Pulitzer-prize winner Upton Sinclair's book Mental Radio (1930).

Today's experiments tend to use the ganzfeld method, where the subject's senses are blocked with white noise and half ping pong balls over the eyes. A sender then views images and attempts to transmit impressions to the subject.

Ongoing experimentation points to a number of factors that might increase a subject's telepathic hit rate, including a pre-existing belief in psi phenomena, a relaxed demeanour and, perhaps more worryingly, scoring highly on the schizotypal personality disorder test, ie being a little odd.

Morris' appearance at the BA festival is significant, and represents a growing acceptance within the orthodoxy that this ancient enigma deserves further study.’

 

She removed her glasses and returned the cutting to him, holding his gaze. “What do you expect me to say, or perhaps I should ask what do you want me to say?”

“I would like you to ask me if you could meet this man.”

She stared at him with a half-smile of incredulity. His expression showed no hint of levity, he was deadly serious. Time passed as she considered her options and more importantly her professional obligations if she were to get involved. “What about this Sam, if I get involved I don’t have the freedoms you do. I will have to make it official.”

He had already considered that issue, “I’m certain we can maintain a ‘firebreak’ between you and Sam. There is another case we can look at although I don’t have the same degree of substantiation for it. Someone was killed though, an adult, so there should be enough public records to refer to.”

The scale of the thing seemed much larger at the mention of a death quite apart from the huge leap of faith he was asking of her. But he was a valued friend, who until that point had seemed sane! She realised that she was being wholly negative, and rightly so she thought,- but just supposing there was even a shred of authenticity.

Stop there, stop right there she told herself. This would be no more than humouring a friend. She would complete her role as devil’s advocate, reason will prevail and they could look forward to their next lunch in a years’ time.

 She turned back to face him, “My first suggestion would be that you go see a doctor. Since that would be a stupid thing to say I shall remain in theme and agree to meet this man.”

“I knew you would.”

“Hey, don’t think you’ve converted me. My job will be to bring you safely back to this planet.”

He grinned and promised to make the arrangements. The little time they had left was spent eating and trading news of their families.