“Look, someone sent it to me, I’m not the one who brought it up. Well, I am. But I wouldn’t have brought it up if someone hadn’t sent it to me.”
“You’re dealing with powers you don’t understand!” he said.
“I get that a lot,” I said and clicked him off the air. “I did a little research of my own, and here’s what I found. Historical records—Mayan, Aztec, or otherwise—show no trace of crystal skulls as part of their worship, and the famous ones that form the center of current mystical belief all seemed to have appeared on the scene in the mid to late nineteenth century. Despite claims to the contrary, they appear to have been manufactured. By plain, nonmystical human beings. Now, I’ve seen some crazy stuff in my time and I’m willing to entertain the notion that some crystal skull somewhere might have some of the powers its adherents credit to it. But personally, I have to file this one under crop circles. They’re just too easy to replicate using nonmystical means. I’ve got another caller ready to argue with me. Clare, hello.”
“Hi, Kitty, thanks for taking my call. I just want to say, there’s an alternative that I think your previous caller hasn’t considered.” She had a light, matter-of-fact voice that made me brace for even more bullshit than usual.
“And what’s that alternative?”
“That there are vampires among the aliens.”
I had to think about that a moment. “You’re right. I hadn’t considered that. I mean, generic sci-fi horror movies notwithstanding.”
“It makes perfect sense—immortal vampires are the best choice to travel the long distances between the stars. They’re the ones who would come to visit us here on Earth.”
Was it wrong that the concept sort of did make sense? “You seem to have a lot of good ideas on the topic,” I said, rather nonplussed. “So I’ve got this vampire crystal skull. You think it came from outer space?”
“I do,” she said.
“I gotta tell you, I’m skeptical. I hold it and it just feels like a big rock. I mean, it’s not even a realistic skull. It’s kinda small and lumpy. But plenty of people will tell me it’s magic. What’s it supposed to do? Am I holding it wrong?”
“The skull should give you access to a higher plane of knowledge,” she explained. “Place your nose against its nose and stare into its eyes. You should feel your mind expand.”
I studied the skull where it sat on my desk. Green status lights from my monitor flickered strangely through its depths. Did it seem to be smiling at me? If I tilted my head, looked at it from a certain angle—yeah, it kind of did.
“I’m thinking I should stay right where I am and keep an eye on the microphone. But a little harmless experimentation can’t hurt.” I looked at Ozzie. “We have a special guest in the studio tonight, my producer, Ozzie,” I said, for the benefit of my listeners. “Feel like helping me out tonight?”
He frowned with suspicion, which was probably wise of him. But if he was going to sit in on my show, he could help out. Maybe this was a bad idea, but I’d worry about that later.
“Why?” he said carefully.
“I just want to try something. Please?”
I’d keep nagging until he relented, or tell embarrassing stories about him until he agreed, just to shut me up. He gave a sigh heavy enough to carry over the mike, which made things more dramatic. I loved it.
“Come on over, Ozzie,” I said, grinning, and he did. When he reached the table, I handed him the skull. “Okay, hold this. In both hands. Bring it up to your face so your nose touches it.”
He held it in one hand, away from himself. “Kitty, I’m not really sure about this.”
“It’ll be fine, trust me.” I’d be a terrible used-car salesman. I glanced at Ben, who had a hand over his mouth to keep himself from laughing. Matt, sitting behind the booth’s glass, didn’t bother, and was practically vibrating in his seat. Now, if only I was getting the same effect over the air.
Ozzie gripped the skull in both hands and slowly raised it until it was level with his face. “Should I be sitting down?” he said.
Good question. “You’re fine,” I said, full of confidence, trying to be reassuring. Because nothing was going to happen, right?
He brought the skull close, until his nose touched it. He stared deep into its eyes.
“All right, faithful listeners,” I said into the microphone, my voice hushed. “My test subject is now face-to-face with the crystal skull. Everything seems normal. You okay there, Ozzie?”
“I think my eyes are crossed.”
“Are you expanding yet?”
“I don’t know. It’s kind of giving me a headache.”
Just as I wished for some kind of funky New Age flute music to cover up the pauses while we waited for something to happen, Matt pushed a couple of buttons and there it was: “El Condor Pasa” on pan pipes playing faintly in the background. Just perfect. My listeners were at the edges of their seats, I hoped.
“Anything?” I prompted.