Haggopian and Other Stories

James: “As you wish. The five-pointed star symbol is well known; indeed its powers, if any, have long been prone to argument among certain savants—”

Jason: “Savants?”

James: “Authorities, such as you and I.”

Jason: “But I don’t consider myself an ‘authority,’ merely a reader of weird and macabre fiction.”

James, scornfully: “Not to mention someone who catches the occasional glimpse of the future! But let me proceed:

“The map indicated or superimposed this pentagram on a portion of the Iraqi desert. And the most important thing is this, that the desert has not changed in a million years, not to any significant degree. Anyway, the esoteric organisation of which I speak sent their agents to investigate, ostensibly to search out elusive weapons of mass destruction said to be hidden somewhere in those great wastelands. But in fact they had predetermined to locate the points of the star symbol—and from these to determine its geometric centre.

“This was not nearly as difficult as it might at first have seemed. The locals offered up information; they said that there were five ‘holy men’ who occupied the selfsame locations out in the desert. And each of the five—drug-addicted Dervishes, as it transpired, and completely bereft of reason as perceived in our Western society—was discovered to be in possession of a star-stone! Alas, they were also in possession of Russian small arms, which they did not hesitate to turn on the investigators. Enter the military, who dealt with these five ‘terrorists’ with despatch…or so I assume since the star-stones were confiscated or ‘commandeered.’

“Now we move to the geometric centre: a dried-up well, into which our investigators descend, and down below discover a vast natural cavern, once a waterway—but how many millennia ago?—whose walls are carved with myriad foreign or alien sigils. And upon a marble pedestal at the approximate centre—”

Jason, pointing at the artefact in its glass bubble: “That thing.”

James: “Indeed!”

Jason: “I see. And the star-stones kept it secure, turning aside its malign influence. Correct?”

James, shaking his head: “This is not how I perceive it…though I can see how such confusion in the Mythos arose originally. No, I believe that upon a time the cavern housed a Being. As for ‘malign’: I fail to see anything malign in this. What I do see is that there are travellers out there among the stars; not gods, not evil aliens, in no way a threat, but scientists! Different, certainly—our superiors in as many fields as you care to number, and in others that you can’t even imagine, you may be sure—but ‘kept secure’, yes, I can agree with that.”

Jason: “Secure against what?”

James: “Secure against being disturbed! It is a marker, and perhaps even a Gateway, for those who wander the star spaces.”

Jason, whose sneer no longer carries conviction: “Sure, and who perform their wandering, seeping, or filtering at the speed of light, eh? As for these five Arab madmen, these zealots: why were they so protective of the star-stones, or rather, this so-called ‘lens of light’? Why would they lay down their lives for it? Were they protecting it as some kind of holy relic, or were they in fact protecting us, humankind, from it?”

James: “Bah! Your thoughts are mired in fear! You’re a pronounced

xenophobe!”

Jason: “Possibly, and on a cosmic scale at that! But in the light of my precognizance, ask yourself this: what do you suppose I am most afraid of?”

James: “Of the (Gxxxx Oxx Oxxx), the Outer Ones, of course. Of the thought of Them in the spaces between the spaces we know—in the stellar voids—riding the gravitic waves of exploding stars! Of their superiority!”

Jason: “Wrong! But you’ve mentioned two things that do concern me. One: you spoke of Them harvesting their worlds—”

James, starting, blinking, obviously taken aback: “Eh? Did I? A harvest? Yes, indeed, I seem to recall saying something of the sort. I may even have dreamed something of it. But now…I can’t seem to remember what it was about.”

Jason: “There are beads of sweat on your brow. Are you now feeling

confused?”

James, wiping his forehead: “Quite right. It’s suddenly hot in here. Whoever controls the temperature is not doing his job. But confused? I’m…not sure.” Then, after a moment’s thought: “And two?”

Jason: “Two?”

James: “The second thing I said that concerns you. What was it?”

Jason: “Ah yes! You called the lens a ‘Gateway’. And if so, well, wouldn’t that be something to fear?”

James, throwing his arms wide: “For thought! A Gateway that allows my thoughts to reach out to Them…and theirs to reach me—to reach us, if you would only help me, assist me in opening up our minds to them!”

Jason, thoughtfully: “I think we’ve both been somewhat confused ever since being put in this place. I certainly have not been thinking clearly, and you’ve blown hot and cold—contradicted yourself—on several occasions. But if what you say is right: that the lens is a Gateway for mental communication…well, perhaps that would explain it.”