Dear Katz,
It’s been a month and a half, and I’ve been trying to find a way to tell you how I’m feeling and what I’ve finally decided to do. You know me. You know I can be a little compulsive in my decision making, even with the serious stuff. I know I sometimes jump first and then look. I promise you I’m not gonna do that this time. You’re not going to like what I have to say, but it’s been damn near impossible for me to think about anything besides “the discovery” since they put that girl on the news a year ago.
Did you think we would live to see this? For real though. Harvard, MIT, and Columbia are all opening departments of Parapsychology in the Fall. Imagine that. How many thousands of years have people been swearing that ghosts and spirits and such are real? And for how many centuries have people like me and the people who run Harvard and MIT been laughing at those other people? But now we know. If that girl in that cemetery hadn’t been crazy enough to run toward that thing when she saw it, if she hadn’t been…I don’t know the right word for it…caught up enough to keep filming the thing, how many more lifetimes would have passed without us knowing for sure that those things are out there? I was reading an article in the Wall Street Journal a few days ago, and how they summed it up is one of the best ways I’ve heard. I know you don’t read the Journal so if you’ll forgive the long quote, it said:
Every time I watch the video, a part of me still wants to believe it’s a fake, but if the thing didn’t go away, if the thing is still there to this day, how can a person not believe it? If Harvard and MIT say the thing is real, that’s good enough for me.
But that’s what scares me. And fascinates me. If ghosts are real, can’t angels and demons also be real? I know. I know. I do still keep up with Scientific American. I know you’re going to point to the same thing my colleagues point to. Quote: “The existence of a heretofore hidden reality, where entities not understood by science are now known to abide, does not guarantee the existence of gods or demons…” blah blah blah. But Katz, think about it. We believe in science because its tenants are testable, falsifiable. And when we learn new information, we adjust our thinking. For centuries we pushed back against claims of the paranormal because there was no objective, verifiable evidence to support them. Now we have the video of this thing, standing in a graveyard watching a funeral, and it’s not some grainy Bigfoot video. It’s not blurry and out of focus, and half the universities (and damn near every government) on earth has verified that the picture is real, that the damn thing is there! And we have no idea what it’s made of or how it’s even there in the first place. It’s so funny listening to the conspiracy nuts… Yeah, half the people on the fucking planet want to fool somebody’s Uncle. Jesus Christ. And then the religious people going back and forth: is it from God? Is it evil? I get so tired of it sometimes, but at the end of the day, I’m like everybody else; I can’t stop thinking about it.
At this point, you and I are the only people I know who don’t swear they’ve been seeing ghosts all their lives. I still haven’t seen one. Have you seen one yet? Why do you think that is? Is it because we don’t crave attention enough to lie for it? Or because we don’t hop on the bandwagon and co-sign every new trend that pops up? I get so sick of people talking to empty seats on the subway and swearing it’s George Washington or Martin Luther King. Personally, I believe the vast majority of people still don’t see them, no matter how much they lie, and I still think anybody who goes around making a living from talking to them is full of shit. But isn’t it crazy that since the start of the Industrial Revolution, people have complained about how light keeps our brains from truly resting at night, but now most people make sure the lights are on before they get in the bed and go to sleep? The world has changed so much, and I just can’t get my head around it.
The reason I’m writing, like I said, is to let you know I’ve been thinking long and hard about something and I’ve made a decision. You know how those of us who don’t believe in UFOs are the ones who are the most eager to see one? Can you imagine how satisfying it would be to touch an actual skin sample? Or see just the taillight of a flying saucer? To see one scrambled text message from an extraterrestrial intelligence? I guess that’s why we’re the biggest skeptics. We want it more than most people can imagine. I remember how you laughed when I signed up to join the crew for that billionaire asshole’s Mars colony project. I knew I wouldn’t be picked, but I wanted to go so badly and see what was out there. I think you were able to laugh because you knew I didn’t have a chance. It wasn’t even clear that the guy was serious, and I didn’t even have a master’s degree yet. You knew there wasn’t any real danger I’d wind up sitting in a space capsule headed across the solar system. I suppose I knew it too, but I wanted—I needed—to know. I needed to know what was out there, and so I signed up. Now this thing…this thing in the graveyard and humanity suddenly finding itself at this crossroads, on the edge of this whole new age of discovery. It won’t leave me alone.
I hope this doesn’t frighten you or creep you out. I just don’t want you to find out from the authorities. Next week, I’ll see my thirtieth birthday. My doctor says a guy like me, if he takes care of himself, can expect to live for 73 years or more. That means I could be hanging around for four more decades, give or take, wondering what’s down that other road. I guess the odds are I will see a ghost or two in the next forty years. Just because they aren’t showing themselves to me now doesn’t mean they never will. But Katz, I can’t wait forty years to find out what’s out there. I mean, now we know there’s a whole other plane of existence. And not that I’m qualified to argue with Scientific American, but what if there are gods? What if all the things we were told aren’t real really are? What if, when we die, we just change but don’t end? I wonder if my mom and dad know what my life has been like. I wonder if they’ll know when I’m coming. I wonder if I can find them…
Do you remember the time we were in Spain, and you drew a heart on the bathroom mirror while I was in the shower? It was right after things started going sideways with us, and we were trying to get back on track. When you drew that heart on the mirror, something that small and simple, it let me know your heart was still in it, and we could find our way back to being in love like we had been. I never told you, but I almost cried when I saw it. I was so relieved to find out everything wasn’t lost. Well, we did try. We took our teacups, and we tried as hard as we could to dip out that ocean, but, in time, the tide was just too much for us. You can see from this tome I’m sending you, though, that you still are a big part of me. That’s why I wanted to tell you myself what’s ahead for me. I have to go and find out. If I’m wrong, I’ll never know it. But if I’m right…If I’m right Katz, I can’t wait to see what’s on that other side. I can’t imagine how things work over there. Is it a matter of choice where one goes, who one sees? What role does the will play? What role does chance play? I don’t know, but whatever the rules are, I’ll try to make a heart on the mirror for you. If you see one, you’ll know it’s me reaching out. You are not a fearful person, and so I imagine it won’t frighten you if you already know it might be coming. I just know that I’ll want you to know that I’m alright and that I’ll never stop thinking about you no matter where I am or what state I’m in.
The most valuable things I own are my car and the money in my accounts. The car’s not a Lamborghini but it is very nice, and it’ll bring a nice piece of change. I’ve donated most of my clothes and a whole lot of other stuff to the homeless shelter and the thrift store across town. What’s left is mostly books and pictures. I’m sure you’ll get a call, but don’t worry about any of that stuff. I’ll put the account numbers at the end of this page.
Don’t be scared, Katz. I’m not scared. I’m almost excited. I’m sorry we couldn’t fix things, but maybe it was for the best all along. Maybe something bigger than us knew this was coming one day. Who would have imagined that the start of the 21st century, the age of the internet and space tourism, would be the time we would finally have definitive proof that ghosts are real? Anything is possible now. And it’s time for me to see it for myself.
I wish you peace and happiness, Katz.
Don’t forget me.
Preston Ford is a teacher and short-story writer. His novel Quarter Moon: A Novel of the American South was published in January. He lives in Maryland.
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