Men and Ghosts of Science
William discovers the ghost, Reginald.
A terse argument had broken out among the professors at the University. Alcohol may have been involved, though no member would admit it. William, a Professor of Biology, stood and shouted for the group to calm themselves. These were men of letters, respectable members of society; there was no place for this tomfoolery among men like these.
“I denounce the existence of anything supernatural, paranormal, or other-worldly,” William said. He was sure of himself, as he often felt. There was light chatter of agreement from the professors. “Anything left to be discovered will be discovered and men, like us, will prove to the world that their superstitions and attributions of gods and spirits are ill-founded and a crutch to society. Brothers, I believe it will be fewer than twenty years before the churches are dismantled and faiths abandoned. This belief is shared by many of you here. But no matter if it’s twenty years or twenty months, science will prove to be the replacement for religion throughout the nation.”
At that pronunciation, the men in the room stomped their feet and walking sticks with shouts of “hear, hear” scattered throughout the room. William was well respected and could unite the strong-willed professors at the University.
Later that night, William returned to his home after a long day of research and robust debate. The University had grown to be quite a rambunctious community compared to when he was a student. Still, he thought, the embracing of science had made the University better off as it will do the same for the world.
He poured a glass of whisky and started a fire and decided it was time to read. He scanned through his library passing books written by the likes of Thoreau, Locke, and Nietzsche before settling on the author that gave him more joy in life than any other: Charles Darwin. He picked up a copy of The Expression of the Emotions in Man and Animals. Sometimes you have to read the lesser-known works to understand the man.
“What are you doing in my house,” said a voice. William jumped at the sound. There had been no visitors to the house in several weeks and he expected no one else for as many more. He scanned the room for the intruding voice.
“Who said that?” William shouted. He waited for a moment before standing up and turning on the room light.
“What in blazes is that?” came the voice again. William still could not locate the source.
“What is what?” William asked in response.
“How did you make my room so bright?”
“Your room? This is my room,” William said. “Who are you?”
“Who am I? Who are you to be in my house?” asked the voice.
“You first,” William said.
“Fine, I would end this childish discussion anyway. I am Reginald Jacobson, I have lived in this house since I was a boy.”
“Well, good sir, I am Professor William Rover, and I believe you are wrong. I have lived in this same house since I was a boy.”
“Ha,” Reginald said, “impossible. My father purchased the estate in 1822. I do not see your name printed anywhere saying otherwise.”
“1822? How is that possible? You shouldn’t be alive,” William said.
“I shouldn’t be alive,” Reginald said in a mocking tone, “I am very much alive, sir.”
“Well, then show yourself,” William demanded.
“Show myself? I am standing directly in front of you,” Reginald said.
“No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am”
“I can’t see you,” William said. There must be some misunderstanding, he thought, this man must have an explanation.
“I am right here, you blind rat,” said Reginald. At that moment a bright light appeared in the middle of the room from which the figure of a man appeared. The man appeared to be similar in age and stature to William. He dressed in an older style and wore a large top hat and a cane. He looked to be of a similar upper class to William. The most unusual thing about him was that he glowed an unusual blue and he was completely transparent.
William gasped in surprise once his mind had put the pieces together. He must not be a ghost, he thought, he couldn’t be. It was physically impossible, yet some deep part of his mind believed.
“What,” Reginald said, “what is it? Why do you look so surprised to see me all of a sudden? I have been standing here for this entire conversation.”
“You’re… you’re…. What are you? “ William asked.
“What am I?” Reginald asked. “I say, that’s a rude question. Where did you learn your manners? France? If you must know, I am a Professor of Science at the University.”
“A professor? Science? Never mind, I mean what kind of thing are you? You look to be a ghost.”
“That’s absurd. I am very much alive, regardless of the preposterous notion of the existence of ghosts. People are so superstitious these days.”
“I think we both can agree that ghosts are an absurd impossibility. Though, you bear a striking resemblance to a specter of a kind.”
“I do not,” Reginald said.
“Look at yourself. You glow blue. I can see the bookshelves through your body. Until a moment ago, you were invisible to me. My god, man, your feet don’t even touch the ground.”
Reginald looked down at himself and wiggled his feet. He hovered six inches above the floor. “I don’t see how any of that makes me a ghost. I also take offense to the accusation. I look perfectly normal, thank you.”
“Normal? I can see right through you.”
“You’re the one on the pudgy side.”
William scoffed at the remark. “How dare you insult me in my home.”
“Your home? This is my estate,” Reginald said.
William grew frustrated with this conversation and needed to regain his scientific composure. “Let us approach this scientifically. Shall we?”
“I see no reason why not. We are both men of science,” Reginald said.
“ I hypothesize I could wave my hands right through you,” William said. “If my hand were to wave through your figure, then we could potentially state that you have some ghost-like features. Can we not?”
“I understand where you’re going with this,” Reginald said. “I reject the conclusion that it would be ghost-like, but we can continue in this line of reasoning.”
“Splendid, I will test the hypothesis now,” he said as he stepped toward him swinging his hand.
Reginald quickly scurried back to dodge the hand, “How dare you come at me with violent intent.”
“Violent intent? We discussed approaching this with the scientific method.”
“Well, I never agreed to violence,” Reginald said. “Additionally, the scientific method requires a control group. How would you like it if I came at you with fisticuffs?”
William sat in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose in distress. “Did you even notice how you passed through the table where you were standing?”
“I saw nothing of the sort.”
“Or how you are now six feet in the air?”
“I am not,” Reginald said from above the bookshelves.
This man is impossible, William thought.
This man is impossible, Reginald thought.
“Fine, what year is it?” William asked. If Reginald couldn’t see his condition, perhaps he could be convinced with another method.
“That’s a daft question,” Reginald said. “It’s 1872.”
“See, that’s further proof that you don’t belong here,” William said.
“How is that?”
“Well, it’s currently 1925,” William said.
“No, it isn’t”
“Yes, it is, here’s proof.” William grabbed his copy of Darwin’s book. “This was republished and printed last year—in 1924. It says so right here.” He opened to the front of the book where it gave the proof William felt he needed.
“Ha, you’re reading Darwin? Old Chuck is a hack. You know he’s a racist. Has this whole thing about how much he hates the Irish and Africans. Fool.”
William knew exactly the book that Reginald was referring to and did not care to defend it. “That writing is inconsequential to his legacy. The world has changed for the better. Humanity has lessened its reliance on ancient theocracy. Darwin helped me and the rest of society to be less superstitious and more scientific.”
“Oh, you are less superstitious. Grown man talking about ghosts.”
William felt a sudden surge of rage. An accusation that he was anything but a man of science and reason could not be tolerated. He threw Darwin’s book at the ghoul. It flew directly through Reginald just before he sank back to the ground.
“Ha. Missed me,” Reginald said, his body half-submerged in the floor.
“You are no man of science,” William said. “You are a fool. A fool who fails to challenge your preconceived notions. Kepler and Galileo would be ashamed to hear you call yourself a scientist.”
“Load of bollocks,” Reginald said as he floated to his feet. “I have nothing to prove to you. As the sole person here that denounces ghosts, I am not the one sullying the good name of scientists.”
“Then I believe we are at a disagreement that will not be settled.”
“Yes, that seems to be the case. Ah,” Reginald said as his attention seemed to be fully diverted, “Whisky. It has been a long time. May I?” He floated to the table beside William’s chair and picked up the glass.
“How did you do that,” William asked. The ghost had passed through everything up until this point. That he was able to, now, pick up a glass of whisky didn’t make sense.
“Do what? All I did was pick up the glass. Oh, would Galileo have an issue with me drinking, too?”
“Never mind that. Drink it.”
“Well, don’t mind if I do,” Reginald said in a singing tone. He lifted the glass to his mouth and drank.
William dropped prone to the floor, staring open-mouthed at the floor.
“What in the hell is the matter with you?”
“The whisky never came. It should have fallen right through you to the floor. That means you drank it.”
“Real scientist here,” Reginald said as he took another drink. “Now the whole Darwin thing makes sense. You idolize a man like that and this is what you become.”
“Shut up. Can you taste it?” William said.
“Barely. This damn whisky wouldn’t get a child dizzy,” Reginald said as he continued drinking.
“Fascinating,” William said. “Wait here.” He left the room for the pantry where he found a small package of crackers.
He hurried back to the room and demanded, “eat these.”
“Rather rude of you,” Reginald said, “but I am hungry.” He accepted the crackers, opened the bag, and ate them.
“You must be a poltergeist,” William said.
“A what?”
“Poltergeist. You can affect physical objects despite your condition.”
“I don’t have a condition.”
“And I don’t have time for your refusal to consider your state.
William sat in his chair again to consider the situation. No more than four hours before, he had denounced the possibility of the paranormal. Here he was now, however, failing to find any other scientific explanation for everything happening. If he was a man of science, then he must be able to consider that his previous denial of ghosts came from a deficit of proof. Proof that he now had. He alone had proof of this discovery.
“You are a ghost, a poltergeist. I must record my findings,” William said as he grabbed his notebook and walked to a desk on the other side of the room.
“So much for the world becoming less superstitious.”
“It’s not superstitious,” William explained, ”if we prove it scientifically. This will be bigger than The Origin of Species. I am sure to win a prize for this. We will win a prize. And if I win a prize then I will get…” William paused as he looked up with a hand on his chest, “… tenure.”
“Tenure? You’re going to ruin the field of science so you can keep a paycheck?”
“The recognition alone will get that. I could become president of the University.”
“I will have no part of this,” Reginald said as he floated toward the wall.
“What? What do you mean? Do you not realize that this will be the most significant scientific discovery in history?”
“What will?”
“You,” William said.
“What about me?”
“You, sir, are a ghost. You pass through walls and tables—“
“I do not”
“—you glow blue and I can see directly through you,” William said. “But you can also interact with the physical world. I don’t understand how or why, but you are still connected to the physical world.
“I believe this is the start of a series of grand scientific discoveries. Our names could be mentioned alongside the great scientists of history. We should get to work.”
“And suppose I go along with your little experiment. What’s in it for me?” Reginald asked.
“You can stay here and drink my whisky. In fact, I insist.”
“Deal.”
William and Reginald published their research in less than two weeks. Together, they worked through every aspect of what made Reginald a ghost: translucency, blue glow, and an ability to pass through objects that Reginald could activate at will. They also found his employment records at the University, proving that he had once worked as a professor in William’s department. William had asked him about his time at the University, though Reginald refused to divulge into his time while alive.
Across the University, William was met with ridicule until Reginald appeared from nowhere and shocked the scientists, philosophers, and theologians. Upon meeting Reginald, few could doubt the significance of this discovery.
The paper spread like wildfire across the scientific community over the next two months. The significance of the work was starting to be compared to Darwin, Newton, and Aristotle.
They began presenting their research across the United States. The scene repeated from city to city. William presented findings, pondered on the significance of their understanding of the universe, and called for a green reevaluation of resources in this new field of research. When audiences hurled their doubts and insults, Reginald would float down from the ceiling, proving every thesis of William’s presentation. They would then discuss their work and demonstrate Reginald’s unique attributes.
“Have you seen this letter?” William asked.
Reginald was admiring a forty-year-old whisky. “I don’t look at the mail.”
“We’ve been invited to present at Oxford.”
“Bunch of racists at Oxford.”
“You haven’t been to Oxford in seventy years,” William said.
“Is it hot in here?” Reginald asked.
“Hot? Can you even feel temperature?” William said as he grabbed his notebook.
“Hmm. I guess not. I feel funny,” Reginald said as he stared at his glass. “Though, this is the fourth bottle I’ve finished today.”
“You shouldn’t drink so much,” William said. At that moment, however, it occurred to him that Reginald drank an astounding volume of alcohol daily. “Wait,” he said, “how many bottles did you have yesterday?”
“I don’t know,” Reginald said. “Seven or eight? It’s hard to keep track.”
“Have you once become inebriated in the past six months since we’ve started working together?”
“Inebriated?” William said. “On this weak whisky of yours? It’s a marvel that I can taste it, to begin with.”
William grabbed one of the empty bottles nearest to him. The label showed that the whisky Reginald had been drinking this week was ninety-eight proof. More than enough to bring a man to his knees.
“Fascinating,” he said, “I believe your poltergeist abilities are somehow connected.”
“What are you saying?” Reginald asked.
“We need stronger alcohol.”
“About damn time.”
William and Reginald sat in an Oxford office overlooking a campus that had attracted the brightest students of the world for a millennium.
William looked over his newest paper: the initial findings of Reginald’s abilities as a poltergeist and the implications of the nature of the physical world. It would be the next step in the field of ghost studies.
A knock rapped at the door.
“Just open the door,” Reginald said.
The door opened and an old man with glasses and robes entered with an envelope in hand.
“Hello, William,” the old man started, “Hello, Reginal. I know you do not know who I am, but I have become engrossed with your work. This new field of ghost studies is overtaking science departments in every major university on the planet. You both have shaped scientific curiosity more than, perhaps, any individuals since Isaac Newton. Before long, I am sure that he will be looking up at your accomplishments.”
“Fuck off,” Reginald said, “you haven’t even told us why you’re here. You think we don’t get fans everywhere we go?.”
“Never mind him,” William said, “he has been getting nervous before appearances lately. But please, inform us of your purpose here.”
“Well,” the old man said as he lifted the envelope, “we at Oxford have collaborated with Cambridge, Paris, and the Ivy League to create an award. This award will dwarf every scientific award that has ever been given or, we hope, will ever be given. We can think no more deserving research for this inaugural award than that of Messrs. William Rover and Reginald Jacobson.”
The old man handed them the envelope and left the room. The envelope contained a joint statement from the presidents of the most prestigious universities in the world. They offered each of them tenured positions at any university they pleased with generous salaries to support their academic endeavors.
“This…” William paused, his hands trembling, “this is everything I have worked for in my life.”
Reginald grabbed the letter from his hands and read the message. He read it again. And again.
William noticed that Reginald’s blue aura suddenly became brighter.
“You are glowing more brightly, you may be brighter than ever,” William said. “Do you think this may be a result of emotional response?” William grabbed his notebook and began writing down thoughts and tests to plan this research. “Just as we are handed recognition, you continue to show the ever-growing need for further research.”
“Recognition?” Reginald asked? He still stared at the letter.
“Yes, recognition. For the work, we have done for scientific advancement,” William said as he returned to his journal.
“Recognition, that’s it,” Reginald said.
“Yes, yes, what of it?”
“I died in 1872,” Reginald said with a sudden flash of memory. “I was forty-eight years old. I spent my years pursuing a scientific hypothesis that led to never-ending dead ends. There was nothing to be gained from it.”
William looked up from his notebook. Not once in the months since their first meeting had Reginald recounted a single memory of his life. Until now, Reginald had never admitted that he was dead.
“Recognition. Achievement. It was all I had ever desired. All I had ever pursued. I had no family. No wife or children. My only hope of life after death was to live on in scientific history.
“But I died. I died and left no substantial work to my name. That is why I am here. In this world.”
William was astounded. “Are you saying that you are here because of some unfulfilled purpose in your life?” He quickly returned to his notebook and started a new page of notes.
“Yes, I believe so.” Reginald’s glow strengthened as he spoke. “And now, we have been given recognition beyond what has ever been given a living scientist. I feel…”
William was recording Reginald’s story and grew impatient at the pause in speech. “Feel what? What do you feel?” He looked up and saw that Reginald was no longer there.
“Reginald? Where did you go?”
William looked around the room, but he would not find him. Reginald’s spirit had faded from the world.
William returned to his darkened estate with more gray hair than when he had left. He started the fire, poured a glass of whisky, and sat down with a newspaper.
Just as William started reading, a burst of light appeared in the room, a figure of a man shrouded in blue fell from the ceiling and landed on the ground.
“Well,” William said as he took a drink, “I should have assumed this would happen.”
“What the hell,” Reginald said as he got back to his feet, “what happened. Where am I? I thought my work was finished.”
“They took the prize away,” William answered, “you disappeared. I gave my paper and when they asked about you, I had to tell them that you were gone. That you had fulfilled your purpose.
“They, of course, thought that was ridiculous. Men of science could never believe such a thing. They revoked the prize. The scene caused a riot of scientists and philosophers. They ridiculed the paper and I am now on probation for disrupting the University’s credibility.”
“So that means…” Reginald started but did not finish his thought.
“It means we’re back where we were months ago. Two washed-up scientists looking to make names for ourselves with nothing to show for our work. Nothing to show for our devotion to science.”
“Well,” Reginald said as he floated to the chair across from William, “at least there’s whisky.”