Chapter 5
The apartment was at the on the third floor. Jack led the way in and turned back to find Jon just standing there. His eyes were unfocused.
“Come in, you’re letting the heat out,” Jack said.
Jon didn’t move. Jack came closer. “Jon?” Jon jerked, his eyes coming back into focus. He lowered his eyes and entered. He closed the door, and locked all the locks, including the chain.
“It’s a really safe neighborhood, Jon,” Jack said. “The neighbors are military. Nothing gets in here, unless they can walk through walls.”
“I could put up a protection spell, if you like,” Jon said.
“What? Oh, good joke. You’re quite funny, you know,” Jack said. “First order of business, washing machine over there. Help yourself to detergent.”
Jack excused himself as Jon started the washing, pouring half the duffle bag in without care of sorting. He studied the machine for a moment, then got it going. By the time the water was flowing, Jack had returned. He waved for Jon to follow. He showed him the bathroom.
“Sweats and sweater to change into so we can wash what you’re wearing,” Jack said.
“One unopened toothbrush. Towel. Wash cloth. Is there anything else you might want?” Jon shook his head.
“The guest room is right across the hall,” Jack said. Jon nodded, looked at the floor. It was an uncomfortable silence, and Jack started to withdraw. “Well, I’ll let you get at it.” “Jack,” Jon said, quietly.
“Yes?” Jack said.
“Thank you,” Jon said, and he closed the door and locked it before he could hear Jack’s response.
“You bet,” Jack said, and went to prepare a meal.
There was food on the table when Jon emerged, wearing the sweatpants and army sweater. Chili from a crockpot served over rice, with cornbread on the side. Jack was at the table, already eating. Jon went past into the kitchen, and began opening cabinets, in order of proximity, and then opened the fridge. The fridge was fairly empty.
“Can I help you find something?” Jack asked.
“Where are the drugs?” Jon asked.
“You want an aspirin?” Jack asked.
“No, I want to know where you’re hiding the drugs,” Jon said. “Cannabis, cocaine, heroin.”
“You’re not going to find any drugs here,” Jack said.
“Because you sold them all?” Jon asked.
“Why would you think I sell drugs?” Jack said.
“I found the weapon in a ziplock bag in the toilet,” Jon said.
“Did you leave it there?” Jack asked.
“I don’t touch guns,” Jon snapped. “There is something wrong here. There’s like no food in the house…”
“I eat out a lot,” Jack said.
“The dresser in the spare room is empty, nothing in the closet. The other room is the same. It appears you’re in the master bedroom, the only room that looks lived in,” Jon said.
“You went in my room?” Jack asked.
“Where are your parents?” Jon asked.
“Where are yours?” Jack asked.
“If it’s not drugs, what is it? Are you a dog being run by a pimp? Is that why you brought me here? You intend to recruit me into prostitution?” Jon asked.
“Wow, Jon, slow down. Is that what happened to you?” Jack asked.
“Why did you bring me here?!” Jon snapped.
“I am trying to help you!” Jack said.
“People don’t help people for no reason!” Jon said.
“Why did you help that woman change her tire?” Jack asked.
“She was a woman. She has kids. The roads are icy, someone might have run into her,” Jon said.
“But what was your agenda? You didn’t want her money. What did you get out of that?” Jack asked.
“I paid off some karma so I can be done with this damn planet,” Jon said.
“Oh, good answer. Now, sit, eat, and allow me to burn off some of my own karma by being fucking nice,” Jack said. “Sit, and I will tell you my story.”
Jon returned to a cabinet where he had remembered seeing pop tarts. He took a pack, then took an unopened milk from the fridge, and sat down at the table.
“I did not poison the food,” Jack said.
“Good, more food for you,” Jon said, sitting down. He pulled open the pop tart package, and extracted one. “Your story.”
“I will give you my story in exchange for your story,” Jack said.
“That wasn’t part of the deal. You said sit. I sat. Your story,” Jon said. Jack nodded. “You’re tough,” he said. Jon didn’t say anything. “So, my father’s military…”
“The man in the picture. The colonel in the air force?” Jon asked.
“You know rank?” Jack asked.
“There is evidence that military rank may be bastardized versions of ancient masonry symbols,” Jon said.
“Where did you hear that?” Jack asked.
“Read it,” Jon said. “So, Colonel J O’Neill is your father?” “His name is Jack,” Jack said.
“Because he was too lazy to come up with a different name for you, or he wanted to extend his legacy vicariously through you?” Jon asked.
Jack sighed. “Well, we’re more alike than you might imagine. Let’s just say, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” he said.
“Yeah, I hate those kinds of sayings. Whoever said that doesn’t know anything about quantum tunneling,” Jon said.
Jack laughed. “That’s good. I told you, you’re funny.” “No one ever gets my jokes,” Jon said.
“Well, I use to hang out with some really smart people,” Jack said.
“Who’s the blond in the picture with your father? Mom?” Jon asked.
“No. Just a good friend and colleague,” Jack said.
Jon puzzled over the intonation. “Did I hear lamenting?”
“You’re perceptive,” Jack said. “God, I wish I had some beer. Do you drink beer?”
“No alcohol. No drugs,” Jon said. “Let me guess. You don’t get along with your dad, so, what, he emancipated you? No. He compromised and put you up in an apartment while he lives on base?”
“Yep, you got it,” Jack said. “Look, he’s out saving the world and doing his thing. He’s taught me well. Everyone knows my father, and all I have to do is call the base and he will have aids and people here in an instant. I have never had to use that option. I finish high school, then I am off to college. Speaking of school, the principal asked a great question. Why do you put up with school, given how much you seem to hate it?”
“A stipulation of my probation requires me to complete high school,” Jon said.
“Probation?” Jack asked.
“Assault to a civil servant, resisting arrest, and domestic violence,” Jon said.
“You hit a cop?” Jack asked.
“More than one,” Jon said. “Shall I leave now?”
“Nope, I want to hear what happened,” Jack said. “How does a pacifist get charged with any of those things?”
“Mom’s boyfriend was assaulting her, I intervened. My sister had called 911 when the ruckus first started, and though the fight was over by the time they arrived, my mom said I hit her, beat up the boyfriend, and when the cop took my arm, I pulled free. The last thing I knew two of the cops were on the ground, and three others were on top of me,” Jon said. “I am on probation till age 18, or until I complete high school.”
“Wow,” Jack said. “I take it any fighting would constitute a violation of probation.” “Yep,” Jon said.
“Why didn’t they just lock you up?” Jack asked.
“I asked them to,” Jon said.
“You wanted to be locked up?” Jack asked.
“I wanted to go away,” Jon said. “Anyway, I don’t have to speculate about that part. My family has been in trouble with the law quite a bit. CPS frequently involved in our lives. When my mother and her boyfriend told the judge they were afraid of me, he flat out told them they could keep their bullshit story to themselves. He didn’t buy any of it. Unfortunately, I clearly injured law enforcement officers. A friend of the family had spoken privately to the judge and volunteered to take me in. I call him grandfather. He’s Native American, Cheyenne; specifically, Tsétsêhéstaestse. Really interesting, their name translates ‘those who are like this.’ He would never tell me what ‘this’ is, but he frequently assured me, I, too, am like this. That’s his trailer. He went to visit family and I haven’t seen him in a year. I make enough to pay rent on the lot, buy food, fuel, and probation fees. Someone stole my bike and I had to get another, which is why
I didn’t have enough to get butane.” “I am sorry,” Jack said.
“You didn’t steal my bike,” Jon said.
“No. I am still sorry. You’re not telling me everything,” Jack said.
“No one tells everything,” Jon said. “It’s called discernment.”
“I can’t argue with that,” Jack said. “Take a chance. Eat some chili. I am actually proud of it.”
Jon pushed the pop tart away and pulled the plate over. He said a silent prayer, opened his eyes, and took a bite. The plate was soon cleaned, as if Jon hadn’t eaten in a while. A bell rang, which startled Jon, but he realized what it was and got up to move clothes to the drier. He started the second load, including his clothes from the bathroom. He even threw in the duffle bag. He offered to wash dishes, but Jack told him to go rest, or read. When Jack finished cleaning the kitchen, he went and got his own shower and change clothes. When he returned, he found Jon staring at the wall. He was holding a book.
“Jon?”
Jon was startled back into the present. He looked to Jack.
“I’ve noticed, you do that a lot,” Jack said.
“Just day dreaming,” Jon said.
“No, that’s not that,” Jack said.
“Yeah, it is. It’s called ADHD inattentive type,” Jon said.
“Nope, I don’t think so,” Jack said.
The bell to the dryer rang, announcing clothes were ready. Again bell startled Jon, but he orientated, but down his book, and went to gather his clothes. He brought them back near his campsite on the couch and sat on the floor to fold. Jack sat on the couch and watched.
“You want the television on?” Jack asked.
“Do you?” Jon asked.
“Not really,” Jack said.
“I find miscellaneous noise just for the sake of not having silence bothers me,” Jon said.
“Me, too,” Jack said. “You like to fish?” “Papa used to take me,” Jon said.
“Grandfather?” Jack asked.
“His favored name is Wandering Bear, but I call him Papa,” Jon said, folding. He paused. “I couldn’t stand killing the fish, so I stop using bait because I didn’t even want to catch and release. Granted, I would help him eat them if he prepared it, but mostly, I just liked sitting by the lake with him. He probably thought I was weird.”
“You are,” Jack assured him. “But not because you just want to sit and cast a line.” Clothes folded, Jon excused himself to brush his teeth. He then transferred the remaining clothes to the dryer, and asked Jack forgiveness, because he was tired.
“Go,” Jack said.
In Jon’s absence, Jack became curious about the book he was reading. It was a book of about archaic symbols. He opened the notebook that was under it and found it full of symbols, accompanied by indecipherable notes. It was almost weird enough to imagine it an alien script, but there was some English, and just enough evidence that Jon was being creative, as if trying to create a language for himself. Jack remembered CS Lewis having invented a language for his Narnia series, and so, it would make sense that a trouble kid, with no connection to the world or others, would naturally create something with meaning, even if it was only personal meaning. He closed it respectfully, put it back, and turned off the lights. As he retired to his room, he observed Jon’s door was propped opened with a shoe. So was the bathroom door across the hall, and the bathroom light was on. The other spare room door was open, and blocked with a wastebasket. Only Jack’s room was not opened. Jack couldn’t see Jon on the bed. He went to his room and got a flashlight, definitely not anyone on the bed, in either spare room. He went to the living room and hit the chain lock with the light. It was still locked. He returned to the designated guest room and entered.
“Jon?” Jack asked quietly.
He entered the room. He eventually entered far enough that he could discern Jon was asleep on the far side of the bed, between the bed and the wall, on the floor. No blanket, no pillow. Jack took the blanket off the bed and went to cover Jon. Jon came awake with a start and retreated to the corner.
“Hey, it’s just me. It’s Jack,” Jack said.
“I want to go home,” Jon said.
Jack sat on the floor, at the foot of the bed. “I know,” Jack said.
“No, you don’t,” Jon said. “You don’t know anything.”
“You’re right. I don’t have a clue what you’re going through. We can buy you some butane tomorrow, and you can go home tomorrow,” Jack said.
“I don’t belong here, Jack,” Jon said. “This life is so hard. I know I volunteered to be here, but, this was much harder than I expected. No one prepared me for this. No one can be prepared for this.”
“Help me understand,” Jack said.
“I am lost, in the dark, and I am alone, does that help?” Jon asked.
Jack rolled the flash light towards him. “Does that help?”
Jon took it up. He laughed hard and then cried harder. Jack allowed him to recover at his own speed. “Would you believe me if I told you I were an alien?”
“Maybe. I’d probably ask for more evidence,” Jack said. “Like, can I see your spaceship?”
“I am a Star-seed. I agreed to incarnate on this planet in order to help raise the consciousness of the general population,” Jon said. “How am I supposed to teach love when I am stuck in survival mode?”
Jack nodded, thinking about it. “Well, demonstrating love when everything is perfect, that’s easy. Demonstrating love when things are hard, that’s like PhD level love. Maybe we all came here to learn that?”
“No, Jack. Something went wrong. I was activated prematurely because of the wrongness. I am not prepared, and I am struggling to make sense of it all,” Jon said. “They’re trying to tell me stuff, but I am getting it all confused.”
“Who’s telling you stuff?” Jack asked.
“I am getting downloads. Images, mostly,” Jon said. “Sometimes auditory, but rarely even a complete phrase.” “Oh,” Jack said.
“You think I am crazy,” Jon said.
“No, I didn’t say that,” Jack said. “I completely believe in aliens.”
“So, I can talk about spaceships and aliens, but if I deviate to a more esoteric, spiritual explanation, you’re going to dismiss it?” Jon asked.
“I am not dismissing your experience,” Jack said. “I believe something is going on. I don’t know if it means what you think it means. I actually want it to mean what you think it means, but I need more information.”
“Jack, I travel out of my body and I see these places, and they’re real. Just as real as anything I experience here. I don’t think it’s just in my head, but I can see an argument for that. I
created a tulpa to help explore my subconscious so that maybe I could learn to distinguish between the two,” Jon began.
“You lost me. What’s a tulpa?” Jack asked.
“It’s a Tibetan Monk practice of meditating on a thought form with such frequency and intensity, the thought form becomes autonomous and sentient,” Jon explained. “I discovered it by reading Alexandra David-Neel, an anthropologist, and the only foreign woman to ever enter the
Forbidden City and live to tell about it. I was successful in creating a tulpa.”
“You imagined an invisible friend, and now you can see and hear her,” jack restated. “Yes,” Jon said. “Not imaginary.” “She’s here now?” Jack asked.
Jon focused. “No,” he finally said. “Yes. It’s complicated. Okay, she’s hardwired into my brain, and we share the brain, and she can’t never be not here, but she isn’t always here, but I don’t know to explain where she goes when she’s not here. I suspect this is related to something Carl Jung was talking about in a letter to a colleague, but I am having trouble finding evidence for what it is. I suspect his estate has not released all of the books he wrote, cause there is something missing.”
“Back to your invisible friend,” Jack said.
“Jack, this is not that. I can prove it. Go find a copy of ‘think and grow rich,’ by Napoleon Hill. Chapter 13 ‘the invisible counselor technique.’ I think that is the same thing as what Alexandria writes about, and what Carl Jung talks about. It can’t be coincidental! Hill created imaginary friends that became real. They gave him real advice. You can recreate this experience following those simple instructions. But let’s say it’s all fiction, like perfecting day dreams to the degree that they’re indistinguishable from REM dreams. Einstein discovered the principles of relativity in a dream state, floating on row boat on a lake. Tesla created things in the laboratory of his mind, and Einstein is quoted as saying Tesla was the smartest man in the world,” Jon said. “I am accessing something that is very real. There is more to this life than what we experience. There is more to this life than what we’re being told in school and in the media.”
“I believe that,” Jack said.
Jon frowned and looked down.
“Good night, Jack,” Jon said.
“You don’t believe that I believe that?” Jack said.
“I am sorry. I talk too much, sometimes,” Jon said.
“You know why the old people in the trailer park like to talk people’s ears off?” Jack asked.
“They’re lonely,” Jon said.
“Yeah. You needed this talk,” Jack said. “I needed to listen. That’s how friendship’s work.”
Jon nodded. “Thank you.” “Get some rest,” Jack said. Jack got up to leave.
“Leave the door open, please,” Jon said.
“Okay,” Jack said.
निनमित
On the porch, in the cold, the cigarette sparked. It was the only light other than the cell phone. This is Jack listening to Jack rant, he thought, trying to hear the Fight Club narrator doing a monologue over the conversation playing out.
Jack interrupted himself. “Of course it’s PTSD,” he said. “And maybe there is some related psychosis with this, but it’s not all that. This kid is high functioning. Well, he is functioning, but given what I do know about him, that in itself is a testament to his resilience.” Jack was quiet while he listened to himself.
“Yeah, that’s it. I am so bored, I miss work so much, that I decided to make up some shit about aliens in high school so I could get back into actio