From: lalsoong@sprynet.com (Christine Wirick ) Subject: Pardox Delusion, part 2 Date: Sun, 23 Feb 1997 04:29:12 GMT Message-ID: <3313c711.33178536@m3.sprynet.com> MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii Chapter Two: For a moment, Sam stood there contemplating the dilemma, wondering what he could possibly try in this situation that a psychic couldn't. He'd never been as puzzled by God's choice in his leap host as he was now. "I'll go see what I can scrounge up for dinner," Raymond offered, breaking the awkward silence. "Ah, thank you," Sam said, slowly turning toward the assistant. "No need to thank me. It is my turn--Ah, Patrick and I agreed to take turns cooking dinners. I guess he weaseled his way out of that deal." Raymond disappeared into the kitchen. Beckett turned toward his informant. "Al?" Calavicci puffed heavily on his cigar before removing it from his mouth. "You've leaped into Patrick Marland, a photo journalist. And the date is February 20, 1991, the place Mt. Pleasant, South Carolina." He looked up from the handlink. "I spoke with this Patrick Marland before coming here." "And?" Sam asked, thinking it unusual that his friend would talk with the host before contacting him, and making sure he was all right. "He's very coherent, unlike most people when they arrive inside The Waiting Room." "And that's why you spoke with him before locating me?" "He insisted. I'd almost swear he knows more than Ziggy about what is going on. Some of what he's saying contradicts Ziggy's data, but his explanations are so thorough--And Sam, he even knows your name. He doesn't have all the answers. He says that we'll have to work through them as we proceed. He was particularly worried about the timing of your leap in. He insists that you've leaped in several hours too early." Sam mused over Al's words, letting the information sink in. "If I've leaped in too early, then it could potentially jeopardize our mission. Did Marland give you any indication of what he thought might happen?" "He claims that he needs to run scenarios and jiggle a few locked doors before he feels comfortable with providing us with his insight." "Locked doors?" Al puffed on his cigar, blowing smoke before he replied. "Must be some psychic terminology." He gestured with his hand to indicate he wanted to take the conversation in another direction. "Marland says that he takes assignments from newspapers all over the country," the project observer continued. "He read about this haunted house a while back, and decided it was worth checking out." "Al, has he told you about his other ability?" "You mean the parapsychology?" the hologram asked, waving his cigar around. Sam nodded and Al let out a smirk-filled groan. "I'm not sure I buy his story, Sam." "Why not? He knew my name, didn't he?" "Yeah, maybe he does have some ability, but if he's so psychic, why would he need your help? If he can read people's minds and see into the future, then he can do just as well as we can with Ziggy's help if not better." "Let's not jump to conclusions, Al. We don't know yet exactly what Patrick Marland's specific abilities are. HE wouldn't leap me into Patrick without a good reason." Al punched a few buttons on the handlink, slapped it, but seemed dissatisfied with the reply. "I felt so disoriented after I made this leap, more than usual. Then it suddenly dawned on me that I've been inside this house before during another leap." The project observer turned full circle, looking up and down as he did so. "Now that you mention it--talk about deja vu." Again, he punched buttons on the handlink, this time looking content by the answer. "Ziggy says that this house formerly belonged to a Ben and Karen Simms. Sam, wasn't that the woman that you almost--" "I didn't almost. She wanted to have an affair, but I talked her out of it, remember?" "Yeah, but it got a little hot and--" "Don't say it!" "I don't think I could have resisted as easily as you did," the hologram said with a far-off look in his eyes. "Think about how you felt when you came home from Vietnam and learned that Beth had married another man." A solemn expression overcame Al as he nodded in complete accord. "I think I have somewhat of an idea why I leaped here." "And that is?" "I'm here to help Karen. She won't realize that I am the same man she once almost had an affair with, but with my familiarity toward her, I'm hoping that she will instinctually trust me. She's obviously in distress or she would have crossed over into the afterlife. I intend to help her find peace. Why else would I return here, Al? Do you suppose something went wrong with the original leap?" "If it did, then why did you leap out? I thought you said that wasn't possible." "In theory, it's not. But we're dealing with reality here. Maybe I leaped, because I thought I had succeeded or maybe even more importantly because Ziggy thought I had succeeded. At any rate, you better have Ziggy run through her databanks for any activity during or after that leap that may somehow associate back to it. In the meantime, what does she believe we're here to do now?" "Ziggy believes you're here to do exactly what the Sheffields asked of you: get rid of their unwanted house guests. Ziggy says that Ben and Karen died in a car accident in 1970 and have been haunting this house ever since." "Car accident," Sam echoed. He almost always leaped out of people with a sense of "happily ever after," but it hadn't worked out that way for Karen and Ben Simms. "How did it happen?" "The police report is inconclusive. It states that the accident occurred on a sunny spring day. Ben was driving, but he wasn't speeding, nor was he drunk. He careened off the road for no known reason and plunged off a bridge into a river. Although both of them knew how to swim, they were both found still inside the car." "It could have been a suicide. Maybe Ben was unable to adjust back to a normal life. Maybe he wanted to take Karen with him." Al sighed heavily. "Until the Sheffields bought the house three months ago, it stood abandoned for over ten years." "Ten years! Then something must have happened to scare people off. Have Ziggy check into any previous owners--and why the Sheffields chose to buy it. Check on data about any ghost stories from the neighborhood." Al punched several buttons on the handlink. "Ziggy's processing data on this house since Ben Simms returned from Viet--" Al peered into the handlink, astonished. "Get this--Ziggy says that Ben and Karen Simms fought constantly after he returned from Vietnam, because Ben believed that Karen had an affair with Andrew Montgomery." "Ben thinks that Karen had an affair with the reporter I leaped into! Al, that's a paradox, because we know that she did until I leaped into the guy and changed history." About a year ago, his time, Sam had leaped into Andrew Montgomery, a reporter, and as Andrew he'd spent a great deal of time inside this house, interviewing Karen Simms, the daughter of a senatorial candidate. Sam not only proved that one of the candidates was illegally obtaining votes, but talked Karen, who believed her husband dead, out of having an affair--with him! "I think you're here to prove that to Ben," the project observer said. "Wait a minute--if Ben wants revenge on Montgomery, then why is he haunting this house? He has no reason to believe that Montgomery would ever return here." Sam waited for a long moment while Al, consternation coming over him, consulted Ziggy. "Ziggy doesn't have an answer to that. Maybe Ben's attached to the house for some reason." Al puffed on his cigar. "Uh oh, Sam. Ziggy says there's only a 11.2% chance that you're going to convince Ben in time." "In time for what?" Al glanced at the handlink, confirming what he already knew. "In time to prevent your death." "My death! Why would Ben want to attack me?" Both men stared solemnly at one another for a long moment. Al brought his cigar to his mouth and puffed heavily as though in deep thought. The project observer obviously had no idea. "Sam, Patrick tells me that he keeps a journal," the hologram finally said. "Go through his camera bag and pull out the hardbound book inside. He wants you to read everything he wrote in that book. I'll get back with you later on the house's history." "Where's Patrick's camera bag?" "Upstairs," Al began, "second door on the right, on top of the desk." He punched a button on the handlink, and popped out. Sam climbed the stairs and opened the second door on the right, gasping as he got a good look at the room. Suddenly a vision forced its way through his swiss-cheesed memory. He could hear a woman's laughter. "Andrew, you are the funniest man I've ever met," the woman said faintly. "Karen?" Sam called out. No one answered; the laughter died away. I've been in this room before, Sam realized. I was here with Karen Simms as Andrew Montgomery. Karen invited me up here, because she wanted to-- Sam shook his head, remembering how tempted he had been by the glamorous woman--a temptation that Andrew Montgomery, in the original history, had not been able to resist. Beckett had changed that history, and Karen remained celibate until her husband returned from the war. Sam leaped out, believing Karen and Ben Simms would live happily ever after. He had never leaped without believing he had done at least some good--had thought he would be trapped inside another's body if he ever couldn't change history for the better. So what happened? Perhaps the evil leaper had her hand in this. If so, who had she leaped into? Karen, Sam decided. She would want to leap into Karen, so she could make it look as though Karen had actually had an affair with Andrew Montgomery. Upon his last encounter with Aleah, Sam had managed to woo her away from evil, but Zoey, her holographic advisor, had eagerly taken her place. How many lives had Zoey corrupted since then? Sam made a mental note to ask Al to search Ziggy's data banks to see if there were any unusual circumstances leading up to the accident that caused Karen and Ben's deaths. Recovering from the sudden memories, Sam remembered what he'd come up for-- Patrick's journal. Opening the camera bag, he found the journal in the long side pocket, then sat down on the bed to begin reading. As he opened the book, a picture fell out and landed upside down on the floor. Retrieving it, Sam was stunned to find himself staring at a picture of his younger self being lifted by his teammates after he had scored the winning point for the Elkridge basketball team. He flipped over the photograph and was further perplexed by the scrawl written on the back: "Sam Beckett, what does it mean?" That's what I'd like to know, Sam thought. He set the picture on the bed beside himself, then flipped the pages to the first entry, written on November 8, 1990. The passage contained only one sentence. I saw the flashing blue light in my dream last night. Sam took special notice that Patrick had written "the" instead of "a" in front of "flashing blue light" and immediately wondered what Patrick knew about him. He continued. The next entry had been written two days later. I've thought of little else since I awoke from the dream. It was quite bizarre. Not only did I see the light flash, but I felt as though it were dragging me along on a journey to where--or when--I'm not sure. Yet, I had a strong desire to follow and be led. I'm sure something is about to happen, something that may change my life forever. Someone is coming. Who is he? The next entry came the following day and was very disconcerting to Sam. I spent today leafing through old photo albums, ones that I took years ago when I was still in high school. It literally took me hours before I came across one that brought pause. I'd taken a picture of the Elkridge basketball team in 1969 right after they'd won a penultimate game. I was particularly interested in the young man in the center being lifted by his teammates. I could see a trace of a blue light around his face. Was it something on the film? Or had it portended my dream? I removed the photograph and stared at it until my eyes began to water. Flipping it over, I learned that the man's name was Sam Beckett. But how does he fit into my dream? What does the flashing light mean? Sam read several more entries all centering on the dream, which Patrick had four more times in the next two weeks. The most startling entry came on November 23 after Patrick woke up from the fourth recurrence. He wrote: Can Sam Beckett travel through time? Does God want Sam Beckett to come to my time, my life? If HE does, I must prepare for Beckett's arrival. I need to find out all I can about the man. It is important that I understand who he is, so I can know how to convince him that God would only place us together if we could engender a high level of trust. Sam didn't know much about Patrick Marland yet, but the man had invoked a strong curiosity in him. He plunged into the next entry, dated November 25. God wants Sam Beckett to leap into my life, but HE will only let it happen with my countenance. Should I agree to this-- A knock at the door interrupted him. It was Raymond, coming to tell him that dinner was ready. Beckett reluctantly set the book down and followed the other man downstairs. I didn't realize that God gave anyone a conscious choice about my leaping in! Sam thought. He'd forgotten he was hungry. * * * Al stepped out of the imaging chamber and walked up to the artificial intelligence unit. Before he could instruct Ziggy, she took the initiative. "Good afternoon, Admiral. I understand that you're working with a psychic on this one." "You've already spoken with him!" "We've communicated, but not with words. Ooh, he's got such a sexy mind! His transfer rate his almost phenomenal." Great, just what he needed, a computer with a sex drive that almost matched his own. "So you're saying he spoke telepathically with you?" "He can access my terabytes any time." Already, this leap had Al pretty frazzled and now he had to deal with a highly intelligent computer who was acting like a teenager with raging hormones. He was thinking about Karen. Why did she have to die? Why couldn't she and Ben have been happily reunited and live a perfectly contented life together until they grew old? Any leap dealing with military wives always left him feeling numb. It hit far too close to home; it reminded him of his own years of misery without his beloved Beth. Karen was already dead. So how could he or Sam possibly help her now? "Admiral?" Ziggy questioned, breaking through the observer's reverie. "Oh, sorry," Calavicci offered meekly. "What do you have on this Patrick Marland? He had to ask, though he wasn't looking forward to Ziggy's lascivious answer. Fifteen minutes later, Al stepped into the Waiting Room. Although Ziggy had competently supplied him with information, he still felt compelled to seek out Marland's input. Patrick Marland had been drinking coffee almost incessantly since arriving in the Waiting Room that afternoon, a habit he said he'd never be able to break. He was now sitting at a small round table while Al stood over him. "He was supposed to leap in right about now," he said without looking at the project observer. "It didn't happen that way, but this still feels like the right time." "What do you mean, he was suppose to? Is the timing that important?" "Oh yeah!" Patrick finally glanced up at Al, a serious look on his face. "Timing can very easily set our course. I've been running various scenarios, as you know, in an attempt to learn why Sam leaped into my life several hours ahead of my expectations." "And?" "I believe there are pieces to the equation that I did not consider. We may be dealing with more than two spirits here, and I should have realized that possibility." "More than two! I don't like the sound of that." "Unfortunately, I have been unable to verify just how many spirits we are dealing with. I have run into several locked doors." "Can't you break your way through them?" Al asked, swinging his arm in the air to emphasize his words. "No! Locked doors are put into place as safety barriers. For some reason, it is dangerous for me to know all the answers--at least at this time." "It sounds like an excuse to me," Al countered. "If a so-called psychic can't figure out all the answers, then you can just say there was locked door. It's an easy way out." "I do understand your skepticism, Al. In fact, I would prefer a skeptic over someone who would believe everything they hear with blind faith. A wise person questions everything and establishes their beliefs through experiences and empirical data." "I find that a very unusual philosophy for a psychic to take." "Not really. The majority of true psychics do not use their abilities against others. We are not out to prove ourselves superior to the world, but rather to help in any way that God sees fit to guide us." He paused to let his words sink in. "I understand that Sam leaped into Karen Simms' life while her husband was still in Vietnam." "Yes, he was there to make sure her father won a senatorial election. But what I don't understand is why we couldn't prevent her death. God, I hate to think about the way she died." He turned away from Patrick in a vane attempt to conceal his tears. "She reminds you of someone?" the psychic prodded. Al nodded slowly. "My first wife, Beth. I was a POW over in Vietnam and so she assumed I'd died. Beth had me legally declared dead a couple of years later so that she could remarry. When I came back a few years later, I couldn't find her. It hurt like hell! But I can't blame her." "And yet you did?" "For a long while I was angry, very angry. I drank a lot. I didn't care about my appearance any more or what anyone thought of me. If it weren't for Sam, I'd probably still be drunk and feeling sorry for myself. He's been a real kick in the butt; just what I needed." Wanting desperately to change the subject, Calavicci redirected their conversation to Patrick. "So when did you supposedly become psychic?" he asked Patrick in a mocking tone. He thought back to the oriental woman Sam had become involved with during his leap into Dylan Powell. She'd claimed to be psychic and even called Sam by name. Yet Al still remained unconvinced that the incident had been anything more than coincidental or isolated at best. "After I almost drowned," Patrick replied, placing the palm of his hand on his chin to rub his beard only to realize that since he was inside Beckett's body, he had no beard. "When I was thirteen, my father and I went on a fishing trip, I wasn't wearing a life jacket, and I wasn't that great of a swimmer either. I fell into the water while trying to rustle a big fish. My father went in after me, but I'd already been under water for five minutes before he pulled me out. I spent over forty-eight hours in a coma, and the doctors said it was a miracle when I woke up with no brain damage." Waving his cigar around, Al said, "Except for that ability you woke up with. Wouldn't you call that a form of brain damage?" "Some might. It can be scary at times, but it can prove life-saving as well. Does that mean you believe my story?" "The part about the accident and the coma. I'm not so sure about the other stuff." "Well, at first I picked up on little things," Patrick continued, "like knowing the next line in a movie I'd never seen, or what someone was going to say during a conversation. Then several months after my accident, my mom was going to take a bus trip to see her sister who lived in St. Louis. I begged her not to go, because I knew something was going to happen. She believed in my PSI ability. She thought it was cute and funny--until that moment. I'd never seen her turn so pale. She postponed her trip for the day, and that night while watching the news we learned that the bus she'd been scheduled to ride had been involved in an accident. Over half the people aboard had been killed." Al wasn't sure whether or not to believe Patrick's story and could think of no comment, wise-crack or serious, to make in response. He sat down, anxious to hear more stories from the psychic. "Tell me more." * * * As they sat down at the dinner table, Raymond told Sam, "Patrick and I have grown accustomed to always saying grace before dinner. I hope you don't object." "Not at all," Beckett replied. "Actually, I think it's quite appropriate, given the nature of our assignment." They bowed their heads and closed their eyes. "Dear Heavenly Father," Raymond began, "we'd like to ask you to please bless this food and this house, in which we will be living for a while. We hope you will help us understand what we need to do to accomplish this assignment. Help us find a way to resolve whatever conflicts present themselves during our stay here. Please bless Charles and Lisanne Sheffield, my friend Patrick, Sam Beckett, who sits here now beside me, and most importantly Karen and Ben Simms. May their turmoil end soon. Amen." They opened their eyes, and picking up their utensils, began to eat. "I've been reading Patrick's journal," Sam said between bites, hoping the news wouldn't anger the psychic's friend. "He gave me permission through my friend, Al." He broke off a piece of garlic bread and popped it into his mouth. Raymond nodded, showing no surprise as he chewed a bite of spaghetti. "And you'd like to ask me something about that?" "Well--yeah, actually. How much has Patrick told you about his dreams and visions?" "A lot." Raymond paused to sip at his coffee. "He wanted to make sure I was fully aware of the situation we were getting into before you arrived." "Then are you aware of my relationship with the ghosts--I mean, back when they were alive?" "Patrick didn't know himself until very recently. You see, visions are often obscure. He found the ad the Sheffields placed and immediately, he knew that he was supposed to come here. He's known that you were coming for quite some time, but it wasn't until he began speaking with the Sheffields that he began to put it all together." "I see. Patrick also wrote that God gave him a choice on whether or not I leaped into him. Do you suppose that's fair when most of the people I leap into have no warning at all?" "That's not completely true. What you don't realize is that so many things happen at a spiritual level. Although your hosts are not consciously aware that you are going to leap into them, God would not permit such a possession without a prior agreement. If you want a more thorough explanation of this, you'll have to ask Patrick. "Besides, even looking at Quantum Leaping from a secular viewpoint, you still have to take into consideration the positive changes you make in their lives or the lives of someone they care about. That alone outweighs the temporary confusion you cause them." The time traveler nodded and stood to take his dishes to the sink. "Let's hope I can do that now." "Have confidence, Sam." Sam wasted no time before returning to the guest room and back to reading the journal, beginning with starting over with the November 25th entry: God wants Sam Beckett to leap into my life, but HE will only let it happen with my countenance. Should I agree to this deal even if it might mean my death? If I don't will someone else suffer because of my decision? I don't think I could live with that guilt. November 27: It is incredible what Sam Beckett has done. The man must be a genius. He thought up a time traveling project--and has met with success! HE told me about Beckett through a vision this morning. I don't know why HE feels I should be aware of project Quantum Leap. Sam must be leaping from life to life, doing good deeds wherever God sends him. Do I need Sam's help? Or does he need mine? Who needs his help? For a moment, Sam was taken aback by Patrick's words. I guess I'm going to have to ask Al to set Patrick straight, Sam thought. My leaping cannot benefit either Al or myself. It could disrupt the space-time continuum if a leap ever did. Sam continued reading, wondering what other surprises Patrick's journal had to offer. November 30: Today, God let me know that Sam Beckett is psychic. Sam doesn't know he's psychic. His abilities are only transitional, but could be awakened with little effort. I don't know if HE wishes for Sam to use his ability. I also, still, don't know why Sam and I need cross paths. How will we be able to help one another? Yes--that feels right--I think we need each others help. God will let me know why when the time is right. Sam looked away from the journal in awe. Him psychic? He couldn't fathom the idea. He'd heard many stories about psychics, and although he was slightly skeptical, he'd always tried to remain open to the concept. He didn't know yet if he was supposed to help Patrick in any way, but so often leaps did help the person he'd leaped into. What really confused him was Patrick's firm belief that he, Patrick, was meant to help Sam in some way. How was that possible? The November 30 entry continued: I think HE wants Sam to realize his potential. I hope Sam will want to learn how to use his talents to save someone--possibly himself. But from whom? I am frightened for Sam. I feel responsible for him somehow. I must find a way to help him. If he is to succeed, he will need a teacher. I think God has chosen me to be Sam Beckett's teacher. I will not let HIM down. I cannot, because failure could mean my death. This morning, I went to the library to read through old newspapers and periodicals to dig up any information on Dr. Sam Beckett. He began college at an early age and quickly built a reputation as a physics genius. His thesis paper became one of the most highly regarded at [UCLA]. It dealt with his Quantum Leap theory, which he turned into a project in 1990. I could visit Beckett at his lab now, but I get the sense of that being wrong. The younger Sam Beckett of my time should not be made aware of what is to come. It is too soon for him. Approaching him could possibly disrupt the whole QL project. December 2: HE and I have established a set of conditional prerequisites to my leaping into Sam Beckett. Sam cannot die during this mission. Sam will develop psychically during his leap-in, but only at a pace that is reasonable and safe for him. Sam will be able to rely heavily on my guidance and if at any time, he is in danger, we will immediately switch places again. I have given my consent, with these conditions in place, for Sam to leap into my life, into my body. December 3: Sam Beckett needs to understand that I will allow no harm to come to him. He must not feel guilty if this mission fails, because a large portion of the burden must fall on me. God wants me to serve as Beckett's mentor and advisor. There are many things pertinent to this mission that Beckett doesn't yet understand. Sam wondered how Patrick thought he could serve as his mentor. It was impossible to meet and interact with the person he'd leaped into. If only it were possible, Sam believed he would enjoy meeting Patrick Marland. December 7: I have a feeling that someone is angry at Sam--or rather someone he has been during a leap. I don't know who he or she is, but I can sense his or her animosity. He/she wants this leap host dead for some personal vendetta. I believe Sam Beckett is innocent. Anyone who would travel through time to help put right what once went wrong would not cause deliberate harm. Sam does not realize he has caused this trouble, or that anyone is out to get this host. If Sam comes, I will let him read this, so he will be warned of the danger. I only pray that together we can concur this problem.