Chapter 4: I'm Not Crazy “Sit, sit. I’m sure you’re wary, but I’m not here to shrink your head. I’m just as troubled by the situation as you are, though I suspect that your troubled by much more.” Finn gestured at the sofa in front of me, but I hesitated, “Bianca also made some soothing chamomile and lavender tea to calm your nerves. She said your blood pressure was elevated as was your pulse and that’s a long while for it to stay that way. By your actions today viewing Robert’s body coupled with your strange behavior after visiting their house yesterday and your supposed sleep-walking—I’d say you are suffering from some sort of traumatic stress response.”
Finn was leaned back in his chair with his fingers steepled and pressed against his lips as he looked to me for a response. “I’m not going to entertain any sort of conversation with you if you are going to do that,” I gestured at his posture, “I’m not a patient of yours; I’m your employee. I will talk to you about what has me so on edge, but you have to listen carefully and understand something about me.” I waited patiently for him to reply, still standing at the edge of the sofa. If he insisted on treating me like some patient, I was going to walk right out of that parlour and up to my room, keeping my hallucinations to myself which is probably where they should have stayed. “Alright. Let’s talk like two regular adults, two friends. Except one of those friends has a doctorate in psychology, but that is neither here nor there.” Finn made a sarcastic joke and I felt my eyebrow twitch as I fought back a laugh. “Alright then,” I finally sat down on the sofa and tried to get comfortable, “I’m going to start by saying this: I am well aware that I have a mental illness and I am also aware of my symptoms and when I am experiencing them. With that being said, I experienced a hallucination while we were at the Dugan’s house yesterday and it triggered a series of other hallucinations, now both visual and auditory.” I explained as succinctly as I could. “Oh!” The word seemed very surprised as it left Finn’s mouth. He tried to take the exclamation back, but the damage had been done, however he tried to coax me onward, “Well, what was the hallucination you experienced at the Dugan’s?” “When you forced me to position poor Robert and the family insisted that his eyes were open for the photo, and then you suggested that I draw them on… After I snapped at you, when I turned around, his eyes were open. They were milky, cloudy with cataracts, but it was only like that for a moment. And when we left, I swore I saw the boy sitting up in his casket even though they had just laid him flat in it.” I gave the basic details, but not too much. “Seeing the boy’s eyes open would make sense since the mother wanted them open. Obviously, we couldn’t do that for her and your illness translated it into his eyes being open. The clouding eyes, although frightening, are normal for a deceased body. I assume you know that.” Finn tried to comfort me and explain the hallucination from a psychological perspective, but there was a bit more to it that I hadn’t talked to anyone about. “Sure, but Robert was blind. Did you know that?” I asked Finn. My assumption is that he didn’t. “Blind? I wasn’t informed that he was blind. It wasn’t from birth, was it?” Finn was surprised, just like I thought he’d be. “No. He blinded himself with lye when no one was looking; he was seven. Did I hallucinate the cloudy eyes because I know that’s what the eyes do after death, or did I see the blind eyes of a child who deliberately inflicted it on himself? I took it as just a hallucination, but then I had another one last night. I didn’t sleep walk, I hallucinated Robert in your chair. I hallucinated him disappearing and reappearing as some sort of terrifying spiny legged creature that I couldn’t quite see. It reduced me to tears before Bianca found me. And then today...something told me to remove the sheet. A voice I never heard before told me to take the sheet off his face so that the boy could find justice and then there lay Robert. Robert! He was supposed to be buried yesterday evening, correct? What was he doing in your anatomy lab having been picked up off the streets, tattered and covered in mud? These hallucinations—Robert—what is happening to me?” I tried not to break down too much, holding my own even though I felt my stability cracking. I promised myself that I wouldn’t be known as the mental woman, but I had failed miserably. “Have you had auditory hallucinations before?” Finn didn’t leap from his chair and wrap me in a straight jacket like I thought he would, instead he calmly asked me a question. “I have, but it has been years. That was mostly when I was younger, but I sort of learned to tune them out.” I divulged, being as honest as I could. “And what did those voices used to say?” Finn sounded like he was shrinking my head, but I think it was actually curiosity. “It varied. Sometimes they asked me for help, sometimes they would just talk about—family. Who’s, I don’t know. Mine? Maybe...others were—others were violent. They said terrifying things.” I confessed. It felt strangely good to get it all out, but I soon wish I could take it all back again. “Did they tell you to do things? To hurt people? Hurt yourself?” Finn looked slightly alarmed, but I quickly moved to placate him. “No, never. I mean sometimes they asked for things, but never told me to do anything violent myself. The voices haunted me for years, but eventually they went away. If I ignored them hard enough, they stopped.” I explained to him. “And what about the hallucinations? Did they start before or after? Or did they occur simultaneously?” Finn scooted to the edge of his chair so as to get closer to me. “Sometimes simultaneous. Sometimes they were so bad that I would see and hear things during a single hallucination. I was so young, though. Eventually, I got so wrapped up in surviving that they all but stopped. I got on my feet, more or less, and found a home with Mrs. Moss. I still had to find a job and the only places that didn’t care about how ratty I looked or that I was female were the morgues, crematoriums, and cemeteries, but they paid me and that’s all that mattered. I was comfortable and when I became comfortable, they started again. The frequency was sporadic and I never new when they would happen. It became unbearable and so I resigned—they went away after that. But you can’t live without money and so I had to find a job again which meant the hallucinations came back once I had the means to take care of myself. I couldn’t understand why being somewhat comfortable and actually surviving caused them to reappear with intensity, but what was I going to do? It began to drive me mad because the hallucinations took on the form of the dead that I handled which made them all the more frightening. That’s when I started to sell them to the highest bidder.” I paused, swallowing hard. Just the thought made my stomach turn. “But why? Didn’t you say that you believed that being comfortable, monetarily at least, caused the hallucinations to become more frequent?” I noticed that Finn now had a journal in his hands and was scribbling furiously on a page as I spoke; he was definitely analyzing me as if I were one of his patients. The next little bit that I would admit would probably clinch me as an actual patient… “Because they told me to.” Finn looked up from the journal and blinked at me several times, “They told you to?” “Yes. They told me that they didn’t want to be burned to ash or buried in a Potter’s Field; they wanted to mean something in death, even if they couldn’t in life. They told me that people, important people, were always scouring the streets for abandoned bodies to use for science. They—the hallucinations even told me who to go to, who needed the cadavers for teaching tools.” I explained a bit further. Finn had a pained expression on his face as he tried to process what I just said. He kept looking at me and then down at the page, his strokes becoming much slower as he made sure to write down every word that I had just said to him. After several moments of silence, he finally spoke. “Who were they, Willa? What institution were they with?” “Anonymous men from unknown institutions. The hallucinations just told me where to find them; where they looked for bodies. It almost got me shot once...you should never sneak up on a man breaking the law.” I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. The at was completely out of the bag now. “I see.” Finn responded, writing down more about my illness. “Those are never words a mental patient wants to hear, Dr. Sharpe. Those words usually indicate that you think we’re crazy. I may be to an extent, but I’m telling you what I experienced. I’m not trying to convince you of anything absurd and I can’t explain how my own hallucinations knew where to find people who would purchase bodies from me. Maybe somewhere inside me, I know. Maybe there is some trauma that I have repressed involving these men and these shady transactions that are coming out in my hallucinations, I don’t know. I don’t know.” I felt helpless. I didn’t really understand my illness, but I knew what I experienced...at least I thought I did. “I actually believe you, Willa. Especially after what you just said. You are aware of your illness, you are aware of your hallucinations, of the psychology behind it. Most mental patients aren’t like that. Crazy people don’t know they’re crazy. Crazy people believe their hallucinations and delusions as if they are reality, yet you seem to be well aware when you are having hallucinations, regardless of the type. So, either you are a complete sociopath who is extremely good at lying and making up stories, or you aren’t crazy, Willa.” The words that came from Finn’s mouth caused my breath to catch. What was he saying? “I—I don’t understand. If I’m—if I’m not mentally ill, then explain the hallucinations, the voices. What are they?” I leaned forward on the sofa, eager for an answer. “I don’t know. You’re an anomaly. In all my years of practicing psychology, I have never seen anyone like you. You’re aware, logical, fairly emotionally stable. That isn’t something you see in patients diagnosed with dementia praecox and I’m starting to think that you were misdiagnosed.” Finn had his mouth drawn to the side as he studied me. I suddenly felt panicked, “And how would you diagnose me, if—if at all?” Finn furrowed his brow, but didn’t say anything. He looked down at the journal for a moment and then up at me. “I’m unsure right now. For the time being, we will keep the diagnosis of dementia praecox.” Finn wrote down a few more things and then closed the journal, setting it aside. He poured himself a drink and then offered me one. I took it gingerly before finally just asking what I wanted to know. “Are you going to tell the police that I’m mentally fit? They’ll lock me back up and my sentence will be—harsh to say the least.” I pleaded without actually pleading. He had no reason to lie for me and every right to report his findings to the police. “I didn’t say you were mentally fit, Willa. Something is still going on, I just don’t know what. If you don’t mind, since you aren’t officially a patient of mine, I would like to discuss this with Bianca. She is extremely intelligent and was once labeled mentally ill herself for just being who she is; she may be able to help.” Finn tapped his chin before taking a sip of his bourbon. “I don’t mind. I sort of already told her about what I was seeing and she didn’t seem to think I was crazy—necessarily.” I really wasn’t sure what she thought. “Good, then she is a few steps ahead. I’m going to go talk with her and you just enjoy your bourbon.” Finn stood up, glass in hand, and left me alone in the parlour. It was quiet, the only sound was the ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner and the crackle of the fire in the fireplace. It was peaceful coupled with the bourbon in my belly and I soon felt myself drifting to sleep… Willa! Wake up! The sound of my name roused me from my nap and I sat up straight on the sofa, still alone. I had no idea how long I had been asleep, but I felt extremely groggy. “Hello?” I croaked, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. Willa, over here. Come to the garden. I heard the voice call me, but in my sleepy state I couldn’t make out who it was. Maybe it was Bianca, calling me outside to discuss things with Finn. It was a beautiful fall day and such a shame to spend it inside, especially before it got too cold. I got up shakily, rubbed my face, and made my way down the back hall towards the french doors that led into the garden. I didn’t see anyone as I opened the doors and wondered how she had gotten outside so quickly without making a sound. Willa, over here by the tree. I heard her call to me from behind a giant oak dripping in Spanish moss. Something in my gut told me not to leave the stone of the patio as I looked out on the ancient tree. Willa, come here. I need to speak with you. The voice called out again and I felt my heart drop. I was hallucinating. “No thank you. I’m going to stay right here because if I follow your voice, I will find nothing. Maybe not nothing, maybe I’ll see something, but it won’t be real. None of this is real! It’s all in my head!” I screamed, getting angry at the fabrications of my mind. I then realized that I had heard birds and the sound of the wind rustling the dying leaves of the trees that circled the house, but now there was nothing. My surroundings were completely devoid of sound. Had I gone deaf? I closed my eyes, wondering if maybe this was part of my hallucination. I took a few deep breaths and opened my eyes… WILLA! A woman’s face, pale and contorted was inches from mine as she screamed my name, the silence shattering around me as I screamed and stumbled back, tripping over a planter as I tumbled to the ground. The natural sounds around me returned and there was no sign of the woman as I sat up, clutching my ankle. I must had twisted it when I fell and I could see where it was already starting to swell a bit. “Willa? Willa!” My name was being called again, but this time I recognized the voice as Finn. He came bursting through the French doors with Bianca at his heels, both looking frightened. “I’m fine. Can you just help me up?” I extended the leg with the injured ankle as Finn came over and helped me up from the patio. “What on earth happened?” Bianca’s hand was too her mouth as she looked at me with the most worried expression. “Another hallucination. I thought you were calling me out here but I soon realized that it wasn’t real, but these hallucinations are so damn determined to convince me that they are.” I wanted to close my eyes and try to focus, but I was afraid to after what I just saw. “What do you mean?” Finn held me up in front of him, his brow knit. He looked alarmed and a glance at Bianca proved the same. “I tell it that it isn’t real. I invalidate the hallucination and they used to go away, but they have become stubborn. I told it that I knew it wasn’t real, that it was just a hallucination and then all the sound around me disappeared.” I looked up at the sky, swirling grey with an impending storm, “I closed my eyes to center myself, to make it stop, and when I opened them there was a woman in my face, screaming my name. That’s how this happened.” I lifted the leg of my trousers to expose my swollen ankle. “Hm. I need to write this down, but I just received a call from a Mr. Rhoades whose wife passed away tragically this morning. He wants photos with her before she is interned, but I’m not sure you are in any condition to go.” Finn held me upright and I tried not to wince as I put a bit of pressure on that ankle. “No, I’ll go. I just need some ice from the ice box and I’ll be right as rain.” I pushed away from Finn and limped past Bianca to the back door. “She sure is determined.” I heard Bianca whisper as I put my hand on the door handle. “I know. I’m intrigued and concerned at the same time.” I heard Finn return in almost a whisper as I opened the door and made my way to the kitchen. I was determined; determined to fight these hallucinations and figure out what was wrong with my brain...because it was really starting to scare me. It scared me because if they wouldn’t listen to me, that meant I was losing control. And if I was losing control, that means that I was slowly starting to spiral into madness, no matter what Finn said. How long before it completely took me over and the illness won? (*) This body was in the city, so we took the car again, driving into the richer area where a tall antebellum stood, a man already on the front steps waiting for us. He looked tired, but there was something about the expression on his face that didn’t exactly indicate mourning. Finn parked the car close to the curb and gently helped me out and up the stairs as he carried most of the photography equipment. “Mr. Rhoades. I’m sorry that we have to meet under these circumstances, but I promise that you will be left with a wonderful memory of your time with your wife.” Finn was extremely kind as he extended his hand for Mr. Rhoades to shake. The man solemnly shook the doctor’s hand and just nodded, ushering with his free hand towards the front door. We followed him inside in silence as we walked down a lavishly decorated main hallway and into a sprawling room with rich tapestries, thick drapery, and expensive furniture. The curtains were drawn and it was dark as we entered and Mr. Rhoades closed the door behind us. “A little warning, Mr. Sharpe. My wife was—ill for the better part of five years. She did some terrible things to herself and her appearance may be—alarming.” Mr. Rhoades spoke slowly and somewhat strangely. “I’ve seen my fair share of the deceased, Mr. Rhoades, as has my assistant. I think we will be fine.” Finn nodded at him as he set down equipment. Yes, I had seen more than my fair share of the dead, but lately it was becoming more and more difficult to view them… Mr. Rhoades floated over to the curtains at the back of the room and threw them open wide. Even though it was overcast outside, the muted light was bright and washed the room in an eerie grey hue. A woman lay before us in a coffin made of rough wood with flowers surrounding her body. It was propped up in a standing position, but the woman was strapped at the breast and knees with decorative silk cloth. Over the woman’s eyes was a shroud and her hands were were placed casually with one hanging at her hip while the other gripped the elbow above. “This is my sweet Adeline. Who knew that such a tragedy would take her from this world. Why? Why...” Mr. Rhoades bemoaned quietly, dabbing at his eyes with a handkerchief. It was then that I noticed the vast age difference in the two spouses. Even though I couldn’t see the upper part of her face, I could see the skin of her hands and the lower part of her face and neck. Her skin showed the signs of age, soft and supple now that the blood had stopped coursing underneath it. Her husband, however, didn’t seem much younger than me; there had to be at least thirty years between them. “I am so sorry for your loss, Mr. Rhoades. Are you wanting to leave her face shrouded for the photos?” Finn looked visibly uncomfortable and the nervousness was starting to radiate off of him. “No. She would want to stay covered, but I couldn’t bare looking at a photo of us where I couldn’t see her beautiful face.” Large crocodile tears hung in the corner of Mr. Rhoades’ eyes; there was something disingenuous about them. He sucked back his tears and stepped over to his wife, gently pulling the delicate shroud from her face. I swallowed a gasp as her face was revealed, disfigured and horrifying to view. Finn stifled a cough, which I assumed was more of a wretch, and took a deep breath as he positioned the camera. I tried not to gawk, but the appearance of the woman was nothing like I expected. To start with, her ears were completely missing and the way they had styled her hair didn’t hide the fact. I couldn’t see what it looked like from my angle, only that they weren’t there. One glassy eye stared forward at Finn while the other was closed. The skin around the eye that was open looked like clay and makeup had been heavily applied, but you could still see the bruising around the socket despite it. It was now obvious to me that the open eye was a prosthetic. “We did what we could with her face. I still don’t know how it happened the way it did, just throwing herself off the balcony, but she must have really leapt because she landed on the wrought iron fence. Somehow one of the pointed tips of the fence pierced her under the jaw, sending it straight through her eye-socket and into her brain. The doctor said it was instantaneous with the force of it, but it cracked her cheekbone and jaw in half, as well as ejecting the eyeball itself. We tried to piece her back together as best we could.” Mr. Rhoades divulged far too much information as he caressed the hand of his deceased wife. “They did a lovely job.” I blurted, not sure what else to do or say. “I believe so. Let’s get these pictures taken, shall we?” Mr. Rhoades stood up straight next to his beloved and put on a very plastic half-smile. I took my position next to Finn to help with the setup and turned my head away from the flash as soon as Finn cued me to. The room lit up for a moment and I really got a good look at the dead woman’s face. I felt myself begin to swoon as if I was having deja vu from the anatomy lab earlier. The woman laying upright in the coffin was the face I had seen only an hour before, except my hallucination had both eyes. Hallucination...was that what it really was? My mind had a million questions but my body just wouldn’t cooperate. I felt myself sinking and called out to Finn so that he could catch the flashlamp before I fell to the ground. Luckily, I didn’t lose complete consciousness and passed the blame onto my wounded ankle, saying that I had lost my balance. Finn helped me up, but Mr. Rhoades never budged. “Are you alright? We’re probably going to have to take the photo again just to be sure.” Fin helped me stand and reached out to steady my while he dipped his head under the cloth again as we readied to take another photo. “And three, two, one.” This time I closed my eyes as I set off the flash and Finn took the picture. I didn’t want to see her face light up again and I fought the image that was already seared on the inside of my eyelids. “Alright, I think we’ve got it that time. If you have a darkened room where I can develop these I can get you a copy and if you need more, I can have them duplicated for you.” Finn spoke as he gently led me over to a chair to sit down. “You can do it right in here; I’ll just close the curtains and leave you to it.” Mr. Rhoades sounded suddenly cheerful as he wrenched the curtains closed, breezed past Finn, and exited the room. “Do you find him as strange as I do?” I finally spoke into the darkness. “Something is definitely off about him. He was awfully forthright with how she died, but didn’t even bother to mention anything about her ears.” Finn lit a lamp and hunted around the room for a flat surface. He found a desk completely devoid of anything and set down the lamp before covering it with a red lens to change the light. “Finn,” I was mulling the thought over in my head, but I just had to tell him, “Mrs. Rhoades was my hallucination.” “What?” Finn turned around mid-work to gawk at me in the red light. “The face I saw was hers, except she had both eyes. I don’t remember about the ears because her hair was down, but that’s her. I couldn’t tell until the flash went off the first time.” I now got up from the chair and crossed the room to Finn. I didn’t want there to be any space between us and the dead woman. “Willa,” Finn started, but I cut him off with a gesture of my hand. “No, I’m not just replacing what I saw with this woman’s face to explain the trauma or whatever you might suggest. I know what I saw and that was her.” I pointed into the darkened room in the direction of the deceased. “We’ll talk about it when we get home, Willa. Let me just finish this and we can leave.” Finn surprised me with his words, but I chose to shut up and wait. Soon, he was finished, had given Mr. Rhoades a copy of the photo, and we had packed the car and were headed back to Finn’s home to talk about what I had seen. “I’m getting Bianca in here for this one. Tell her what you told me.” Finn had left me in the parlour and returned moments later with Bianca by his side, looking curious. I regaled to her about my earlier hallucination, like I had done with Finn, and then dove into the story about our most recent photoshoot and how the woman I had hallucinated had been the same woman we took photos of. “Now you both have heard what I have to say. What is your diagnosis?” I was agitated as I stood before them, arms crossed over my chest defensively. “Sit, Willa.” Finn waved his hand at the sofa and I obeyed. Bianca took a seat beside me and Finn took up his usual spot, although he scooted his chair closer to the sofa. “Have you experienced these hallucinations your whole life?” Finn asked. “From what I was told, my mother noticed me acting strangely when I was very young, before I could talk. Then when I learned to speak, I apparently described to her what I heard and saw. She was a very religious woman and was convinced that I was of the Devil and chose to put me in an orphanage. So, I would say it has probably been going on my whole life.” I felt bitter having to say this and that bitterness never went away. “Studies have show that people with your diagnosed condition don’t generally start manifesting symptoms until after puberty.” Finn came back with a fact I wasn’t aware of. “It’s just a story I was told by the lady at the orphanage. They weren’t the kindest and there is a possibility that she was just a heartless wench.” For some reason I defended my illness. “Maybe so, but the pattern you told me about, how your hallucinations subsided when you were struggling, but when you were working and taking care of yourself, they would come back. What if it had nothing to do with your lack of prosperity or not, but with where you were working.” Finn pointed something out that I didn’t quite understand. “What do you mean? At the crematorium? And the graveyards? Why would that make me hallucinate more? The atmosphere?” I was trying to figure it out. “The atmosphere part is sort of correct. Think about it, Willa. The random apparitions of people, the things they said to you, how the dead told you to sell their bodies for science. It all seems strange and unusual, but I think I see a pattern, especially after Robert and Mrs. Rhoades. I don’t think you have dementia praecox, I think you are a medium.” Finn’s words caused me to snort as I my jaw dropped in amazement at his words. “Wait, I’m the crazy one? A medium? You mean I—you mean to tell me that I—that I am not hallucinating, but actually seeing ghosts?” I blinked a few times to make sure that I wasn’t hallucinating all of this. “I believe so. You are far too aware of your illness, you use logic frequently, and your hallucinations coincide with being around the dead, or where they had passed. Seeing Mrs. Rhoades as an apparition before we even arrived at her house, clinched it for me. I would even bet to see that your vision of her probably coincided with the call I received from her husband.” Finn went on to elaborate and provide reasoning for his theory, but it didn’t make me feel any better. “So, you’re saying that my hallucinations are real? The things that terrify me, aren’t actually in my head, but tangible? Though, I guess I never actually committed a crime with the bodies since I was given permission by the...bodies.” I paused for a second and pinched the bridge of my nose. This was absurd and the fact that an actual medical doctor was suggesting the idea made it even more so. “I know this is a lot to take in and I don’t expect you to believe me immediately. You need time to process everything logically, like I’ve seen you do. Experiment with it if you need to, read about it, talk with other psychics. I can help you however you need.” Finn sounded understanding, but I still couldn’t quite wrap my head around the whole conversation, especially coming from an actual doctor. Maybe this was one of the grandest hallucinations I had ever had… “You know other psychics? Like they are just wandering the streets of New Orleans with an actual third eye?” I was surprised that he would know one psychic, let alone multiple. “Have you never really wandered the streets of this city, Willa? Were you so isolated in your life that you never got to experience supernatural side of New Orleans? Bianca for example, is a psychic.” Finn pointed at the woman and she smiled at me as I turned to look at her. “I’m an empath and a clairsentient, but I am also a practicing witch.” Bianca kept up her smile even though the expression on my face changed. “And you, Finn. Are you psychic?” I had to know if the house was just full of us now. “Hardly. I may have developed sensitivities to things over the years from my interaction with the community, but I’m no psychic. I am, however, a man of alternative science, which means alternative psychology and I think they is far more to the brain than most give it credit for. This work is done secretly, though; my colleagues at the university and elsewhere in the field don’t know. I’d be the laughing stock and probably lose my job, which at this point sounds like a good idea.” Finn rolled his eyes and sat back in his chair. “I grew up in an orphanage, Finn. Till I was eighteen. Then I was on the streets, but it was on the fringe of the city, the darker areas that people try not to think about. I experienced opium dens, a few brothels, the grave robbers and body snatchers, the criminals that hide in the dark. I didn’t get to see the magick of the city, how prevalent the paranormal was, even though I read about it. I guess I’ve always been aware even if I didn’t know it. I will accept that you think I am a medium and not a mental patient, but what does that mean for the apparitions I have seen since starting work with you? The circumstances surrounding Robert’s death, finding his body the way we did, visions of him, and then Mrs. Rhoades! How odd that we would get two photography call involving strange deaths?” I just dove right into acceptance of my supposed abilities and started asking questions. “I’m actually very curious about that myself; Bianca and I both are. I think I may make a visit to the Dugan’s tomorrow to ask a few questions and comfort the family if you want to come.” Finn invited me along and I felt myself get warm. “And what about Mrs. Rhoades?” I wanted to know about her story too. “Bianca is going to handle that. She has connections in the richer part of the city and can get us some information. We will focus on the Dugan’s and Robert. Something about both of them just isn’t sitting right with me and they are clearly reaching out to you, so something is definitely wrong.” Finn sounded more like a paranormal detective than a doctor of anatomy and psychology, but it made me feel more valid in what I was experiencing because an actual doctor was on my side. That had never happened before… “Alright. Um, I’m going to go take a while to accept that all of what you just said to me is real and try to figure out how to—to--you know what, you both have a nice evening.” I smiled plasticly at the two of them as I sat up from the sofa and immediately exited the parlour. I was sputtering out, the pressure of everything squeezing every last bit of energy from me. Everything felt wrong, everything felt off. All my life I had lived with something one way only to find out that it was all false. I had to straighten out my mind so that I could choose what to do next. But a small piece of me already knew that I was too far into this to back out now.
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Chapter 3: Anatomy 101 I woke up the next morning, unsure of where I was exactly, but I was sure that it wasn’t back at the home, for the furnishings were far too nice. No, I was at the residence of Mister--Doctor--Finneas Sharpe which was where I was currently residing. It all was coming back to me, including the events of last night in the parlour. I shook the vision from my mind and got up slowly, taking the opportunity to shower and change into the only other clean thing I had at the moment that was appropriate for a work setting; I was sure there would be more of that today. The skirt wasn’t as nice as the one I had worn yesterday, but it would have to do until I got past my probation period of the job and started getting paid, then I could get something nicer, something more professional.
I was half asleep still, even after the cold shower, as I came into the kitchen to find a pot of hot coffee on the counter and a few cups set out. I got some cream from the ice box and found the sugar just fine before I made myself a cup and drank it very light before having a second cup without cream. I was just finishing my second when Bianca entered the kitchen followed by Fin. They were carrying on a conversation about something in a heated manner till they saw me sitting at the table with my coffee. “Mood morning, Willa. How did you sleep?” Fin asked, pouring himself a mug of coffee. “Well enough.” I smiled as warmly as I could, nursing my second cup of coffee. “Bianca said you were seep-walking last night. Is that a common thing for you?” Fin questioned me as he made himself a cup. “Mmm, it happens from time to time.” I lied, glancing subtly at Bianca. “Do we need to put in any precautions? Though it seems you don’t seem to have any trouble traversing the stairs in that state.” Fin was mostly thinking out loud at this point. He was trying to help, but he was treating me like a patient instead of—well, besides an employee, I guess that’s what I was to him. “No, I’ll be fine as soon as I adjust. I’m in a new place so my sleep is disturbed.” I wasn’t lying, but it had nothing to do with what happened last night. “Alright, but I will make sure that an eye is kept on you.” Fin pointed at me as he grabbed a pastry off a plate that Bianca produced; I hadn’t realized she was carrying a pastry box. “Mmhmm.” I nodded, finishing my cup of coffee before I rinsed it out in the sink and put it on the rack to dry. “I have some paperwork I need to finish up and then I am going to come back and talk to you about work today. Help yourself to some pastries; they arrived fresh this morning from the bakery down the street. I took photos of their deceased mother a few weeks ago and they were so pleased, they just keep sending them on over.” Fin rambled a bit more before he took a muffin and and strode out the door. “You told him?” I rounded on Bianca, not pleased at all. “Was I not supposed to? I figured he should know if you’re sleep-walking, for safety reasons at the least.” Bianca didn’t understand why I was upset and that was because she didn’t now the truth. “Bianca, I wasn’t sleep-walking; I was having a hallucination.” I sighed, getting my freshly rinsed cup for more coffee. “Oh. Ooooh. I’m so sorry; I didn’t know.” I could see that Bianca felt bad. “I know you didn’t and I’m sorry I snapped.” I wanted to talk to her about it more, but I was reluctant, “It was just a bad one and I wasn’t sure where I was when I came out of it.” “What—what did you see?” Bianca asked curiously, coming to stand closely next to me. “That boy we photographed yesterday. He was sitting in Fin’s chair and he tried to attack me. Then—I thought he was gone, but he transformed into a—a spider? I never really got to see it.” I confessed, ashamed for my defect. “Robert? Why is he affecting you so badly? You never saw children in your prior line of work?” Bianca asked, bringing the box of pastries over as she sat down next to me. “I did, but it was different somehow. I never really handled them; my former employers handled the young ones, worried about my mental health, I suppose. I had to hold this boy, Bianca. I had to position him and make him look alive. Fin was so mean about it...so rude and insensitive. And now all of a sudden is seems so—kind? Why the turn-around?” Now I was just talking to myself rhetorically. “Fin is—eccentric. He doesn’t always thing before he speaks or he does think, and speaks in ways that he doesn’t realize are horrible for the sake of testing or research. After you told him your story he softened up because he had a better understanding. He reacts before he knows the whole picture sometimes; he did it with me before he knew my story even though he wanted to help. I’m not going to excuse his behavior and what he chooses to say, but deep down he really means well.” Bianca patted my shoulder just as Fin came back in the kitchen, a grim look on his face. “What’s wrong, Finneas? You look distraught.” Bianca spoke with a concerned tone. “I just received a phone call and they need me down at the university morgue. Some cadavers came in that I have to do autopsies on before we use them for classes. We’ve been low on cadavers so this is high up on my unintended list of priorities. I had to postpone two portraiture sessions today, so I want to get this done as quickly and thoroughly as possible so I can get back to the other.” Fin rambled on, grabbing a few donuts, one in his mouth and the other in the free hand that wasn’t holding his coat. He paused and looked at me as if he was expecting something. “Um, this is part of your job technically, I suppose. Are you feeling up to it though? After your sleep-walking escapades?” Fin arched a brow at me. “I should be fine. Though, must I wear a skirt to look professional for this? I don’t think it appropriate nor comfortable for such a job.” I hoped he would let me wear my trousers instead because I was terribly uncomfortable in the scratchy wool skirt. “I suppose. Go get changed so we’re not too late. I’ll meet you out in the car.” Fin pointed towards the front hall. “The car?” I asked curiously. “Yes. In the city, I take the care. The carriage is for longer distances. Hurry up, now.” Fin fanned his hands at me before he disappeared down the hall. “Alright then. You staying here? Of course you’re staying here, what am I talking about?” I turned to Bianca, unintentionally stalling. “I stay and tend to the house, you go out with Finneas and dissect bodies. Are you going to be alright with that? After the hallucinations from yesterday?” Bianca was visibly concerned about me. “I’ll be alright. Maybe it’s better that I see something else, another body, that might push him from my mind.” I took a pastry from the box and stuffed it in my mouth before I left Bianca in the kitchen and rushed to my room to change from the woolen skirt into my tweed trousers that I had pilfered from the lost and found at the halfway house. I strapped on my boots and tried not to stumble down the stairs as I breezed out the front door where a car was waiting, Fin at the helm. “You know how to drive this thing?” I was unsure about the vehicle. “As well as one can. The thing is still in its infancy, but the university gave it to me to putter around town so I figured I’d give it a try.” Finn patted the seat next to him. He looked comical at the helm of a machine that was rattling and shaking as it sputtered in place, Finn’s hand on a long lever that somehow made the thing go. “Fine. But I haven’t a will so if we die in a fiery crash, I want Bianca to have my things.” I held my breath as I got in the car and tried not to grimace as my nerves rattled right along with the vehicle. “I’ll make sure she gets it. Of course, if I’m did too, we’d both be in quite the predicament.” Finn chuckled as the car took of at a rickety pace down the road. (*) “And in here is where we do dissections, perfect for viewing by my colleagues and medical students.” Finn took me inside the observation room on our short tour of the university anatomy laboratory. It was empty, save for a wooden table that was stained with dark spots that I presumed to be old blood from previous cadavers. “And how does the university acquire their cadavers? You seemed so critical of my past dealings so I assume that you obtain your bodies completely by legal means.” I asked curiously as I walked around the laboratory, looking up at the rows of bench seats where observers would sit with pen and pad taking notes during dissection. “There are a few ways. We check in with the city coroner for unclaimed bodies and Does who will be cremated otherwise. Occasionally we get the same from hospitals, but that is usually few and far between because a nameless body doesn’t usually end up in a place where care is provided at a price. Mostly, we get the bodies as donations. As odd as it may seem, there are a lot of bachelors, spinsters, and the like who donate their bodies to science since they have no one to be buried aside. Every so often we get—younger cadavers from the orphanage too and from families who can’t afford to bury their loved ones, but want them to do something good in the afterlife.” Finn explained as he donned a white coat and rubber gloves that he pulled up to his elbows. “That’s a very good way to go about it. All legal, all morally sound.” I nodded as I came over to watch him prepare for dissection. “Grab that apron over there and those gloves. They are probably going to be a bit big on you, but they are better than blood and bodily fluids on your hands.” Finn went to a worn wooden cabinet and took out a tray that he laid on top of a wooden table with wheels. He set his doctor’s bag on top and started extracting tools, going back to the cabinet a few times for a bonesaw or larger took that didn’t fit in his bag. “So, are we doing a live dissection today?” I wondered how nerve-racked I would be. “No, just a demonstration cadaver or two. We’re going to dissect one body, remove the organs, and prep them for class. Tomorrow we can teach them about the organs, dissect the organs, and have them practice with opening a body, identifying, and removing organs.” Finn crossed the room and opened up an iron door before wheeling out a gurney with a rather short cadaver under the sheet that covered their body. “Where did you just pull that from?” I had never seen such a thing; bodies didn’t keep all that long without embalming and cadavers were hardly found very fresh to begin with. “The cooler. It’s something I designed to keep the bodies fresh and slow decay. We stock it daily with large blocks of ice and the whole inside is insulated. It is sort of expensive, but we waste far less bodies.” Finn explained as he wheeled the body up to the wooden table and waited patiently, “Are you going to let me do all the work, or are you going to help?” “Uh, oh...I’m sorry. It’s just been a while since I’ve seen a body, aside from yesterday, and I’m just re-adapting, I suppose.” I took a deep breath as I came over to what appeared to be the feet of the cadaver, “They look small.” I remarked, wondering if there was another child underneath. “There is a possibility that it is a child. I wasn’t informed prior; just told that I had two waiting for me in the cooler.” Finn peaked under the shroud and his face dropped; it had to be a child. “Well, never mind if it is a child or not, we have work to do.” I was going to push through this, especially in hopes that it would rid me of the nightmare that was Robert. “Alright then. I don’t know if you’re aware or not, but here at the university we like to keep the cadavers anonymous for the students. Us teachers have seen the faces of plenty, but it is easier if they don’t humanize them since we will be elbow deep in their cavities.” Finn gripped the shoulders of the cadaver and I reached for the feet. Even though I had gloves on, I could feel the coldness of the flesh in my hands as I lifted the body and set it on the table. “Let us begin then. I mostly need you to take notes and pass me tools, maybe an extra eye. There’s a journal over there and a fountain pen.” Finn pointed to his bag and I retrieved the items, opening up to a blank page as Finn began to roll the sheet up from t he body just to the chin. The body was male and based on the lack of hair and the height, he was per-pubescent. I could feel myself grow hot, but shook it off as I put the pen to paper and waited for Finn to dictate. “The cadaver is a white male, around eight to eleven years old. Rigor seems to have passed days ago and based on the coloration of the skin the boy has been deceased for over a week.” Finn started and I began to scribble. I wondered how the poor child had died, but those sort of thoughts would get me in trouble and I pushed them from my mind as I waited for Finn to make the first incision. He grabbed a scalpel from the tray next to him and prepared to make the first cut. I made sure to get close so I could see what he was doing and take more accurate notes. He was just getting ready to press the scalpel to the skin when I noticed something funny about the body. “Wait, do you see that?” I pointed at the child’s neck. “The skin looks discolored.” He commented, squinting his eyes. “It looks like bruising.” I hesitantly reached out and took the sheet between my fingers, peeling it back just far enough to see the entirety of the boy’s neck. There was deep crimson and purple bruising all across his neck from what could be seen. The pattern was spotted in places, imprints left behind by... “Finn, those are fingerprints. This boy was strangled to death.” I took a step back from the body and pulled my hand up to my face. “No, that can’t be right.” Finn looked confused as he shook his head. “Clearly, it is!” I raised my voice a bit, gesturing at the obvious strangulation marks on the child’s throat. “But that’s murder. We don’t get homicide cadavers; those go to the city morgue for investigation. There has to be another explanation.” Finn wouldn’t believe it even though the evidence was right in front of him. “Then we need to call the police because clearly we received a cadaver that doesn’t belong to us.” I thought that much was obvious. “I need to talk to Albert first. There has to be a perfectly reasonable explanation for this mix up and I would rather notify him so we can rectify the situation without any undo stress to the university.” Finn looked uncomfortable as he left the observation room, leaving me alone with the murdered boy. “I’m so sorry.” I whispered to the boy, setting the journal down on the tray, “I know you can’t say anything, but I’m going to make sure that you get to the right place so they can find out what happened to you.” I had this sudden urge to peel the sheet back to look at the boy’s face, but the sound of Finn and another man talking stopped me and I abruptly stepped back from the body. “Something isn’t right, Albert. If it hadn’t been for my apprentice, I may not have seen the ligature marks, but the boy was surely strangled by someone’s hands and we can’t do a dissection on him.” Finn was adamant as his voice rose, his finger pointing in my direction. “Lower your voice, Finneas. The cadaver is in the right place; no need to get the police involved.” Albert replied in an almost whisper, but my hearing was better than most. “What are you meaning, Albert? This is clearly a homicide and needs to be investigated as such. The boy doesn’t belong here.” Finn tried to keep his voice low, but he was easier to hear than his colleague. “Possibly, yes. It could possibly be a homicide, but he is a John Doe. We found the body on the street, alone, no one to claim him so we are utilizing him for science and for anatomy. I’m going to be honest with you Finneas, we aren’t getting cadaver donations like we used to, but we need them so we have to find other ways to obtain them.” Albert replied and I drew a sharp breath; Finn was not going to be happy. “You just scooped this boy up off the street? Did you even try to find his parents? What if he is missing? There are so many factors that you didn’t take into consideration, Albert! This is wildly irresponsible.” Finn was angry and there was no toning down the volume of his voice now. “Listen, Finneas, sometimes you have to get your hands a little dirty in the name of science. This is one such incident and besides—he isn’t the first that we acquired in this manner nor the first that you have dissected that we picked up off the streets or got from private acquisition. It’s the time we are living in right now; the murdered and the desolate need to feel important too.” Albert was adamant that what they were doing was a necessary evil. Fin started to bark at him as my hearing zoned out and I focused on the boy again. Two grown men were arguing about what was going to be done with his body, what was ethically sound or what was necessary in the moment despite the morality at play, but there was nothing left in the boy. Even though I spoke to him as if he were sitting in the room with me, I knew that if there was such a thing as a soul, it wasn’t going to hang around its body, at least not for long. Just take a look. One little peek. You know you want to see the face underneath the sheet. Voices. It had been a while since I had heard them like this. Things had taken the form of hallucinations and night terrors mostly at this point, so the voices were almost comforting. “I’m not so sure I want to see.” I whispered. Of course you do. You want to humanize the boy because you feel sorry for him. But can you really empathize with someone you can’t see? Can you really relate? There were times, Willa, times when you were almost in the same position as the boy. You want justice for him, right? If you see his face, if that face is known, maybe the police can identify him and he can get justice. Don’t you want justice for this poor little boy, Willa? This voice was surprisingly wise and helpful, unlike the other voices I encountered over the years. There was a strange silky smooth quality to this voice as it echoed in my head. A voice that was prompting me to get justice for the boy laying dead in front of me, the boy with bruises on his neck where someone squeezed the life out of his innocent body. “Just a peek.” I spoke so softly that I almost couldn’t hear myself. Just a quick peek. See his face. Let the others know what he looks like. Find who did this. The voice urged me and I stupidly obeyed. My hand was trembling as I reached for the sheet, cool and slick under my fingers. I took a few good breaths as I readied myself to see the face of this murdered boy as if I hadn’t seen hundreds of dead faces before. But this one scared me. “It’s alright, Willa. It’s just another face on a body that has no soul. Remember? Honor their memory, but don’t mourn for the body because the essence is gone.” I mumbled to myself as I peeled the sheet back fully to reveal the face of the boy. I lost several minutes of my life. I remember screaming, not just one long wail or anything but hysterical uncontrollable screaming that dissolved into terrified sobbing. When I came to, I was up against the observation wall with Finn and Albert both by my side. I must have passed out, but I was still shaking from the shock of it all. The shock of seeing the face under the sheet. “Willa? Can you hear me?” Finn’s voice brought me back to reality as I regained consciousness. The room seemed blurry, but I attributed that to my fainting. “Yes, I’m fine.” I pushed myself up the wall into a sitting position and my eyes immediately fell on the dissection table where the body still lay, partially uncovered. I couldn’t see the face from where I sat, but that didn’t matter; I had seen it enough already. “What happened? You just started screaming and we rushed over to you, but you had backed into the wall and immediately passed out.” Finn reached out to touch me, but I shrunk away. “Didn’t you see him?” I asked fearfully. But then it hit me...what if what I had seen was just another hallucination and I had made a complete and total fool out of myself. “See who, Willa?” Finn furrowed his brow as he questioned me. I could have just said the name, but instead I vaulted up from the floor, marched over to the table, ripped the sheet from the body and promptly growled. “Robert.” “Wait, what?” Finn looked taken aback as he got up from the floor and came over to the table, standing close next to me. He looked down at the body, at their face. I hadn’t hallucinated; I had actually seen what I saw. “I don’t understand. We took his photos and then they prepared him for the funeral, for burial. Why is he sitting here on my dissection table?” Finn whirled around to stare icily at Albert. “What are you looking at me for?” Albert asked with an offended tone. “Where exactly did you find the boy, Albert? Because this boy isn’t a John Doe, his name is Robert Dugan. I took photographs of him yesterday before his family prepared him for burial. What the hell are you doing with him here?” Finn raged, coming really close to Albert. “Finneas, calm yourself! I didn’t lie to you; he was found in an alley, dirty and cold. His clothing was torn and covered in mud, his skin completely dirt covered. He looked like he had been sleeping on the streets for some time and there was no adult to be found so we just—we just,” “Took him?” Finn cut into Albert’s explanation, “We have to report this immediately, Albert. IT would be morally and ethically wrong, not to mention illegal for us to not report this. I’m going to leave that up to you since you are the head of the department and—and if you refuse to do so, I will do it myself and I don’t know if you want me trying to explain this to the police.” Albert blinked a few times, but stayed silent. I was now a witness to all of this, technically the one to discover the cause of all the kerfuffle, and the paranoid part of me started rifling through terrifying scenarios in my head. If this man was willing to pick a deceased stray child off the streets without any qualms about where he had come from, was he possibly not capable of something more sinister? “Fine. I will call the police. Say that the cadaver was donated from the county and we just happened to overlook the strangulation marks on his neck.” Albert’s face was toad-like as he held his mouth in an unusual way while he spoke to Finn. “I’m sure that throw off any suspicion that you plucked this child from the streets without doing any of the footwork to make sure that he was indeed a Doe. Sure, go ahead with that story.” Finn’s sarcasm was grating as he tore his lab coat off and began packing his doctor’s bag. “Where are you going, Finneas?” Albert’s demeanor immediately changed to panic. “Nowhere, at least not until after I talk with the police. When that is finished, I will be taking myself elsewhere for employment.” Finn paused in his packing to glare at his superior before resuming his task. “Did you just resign?” Albert looked at him quizzically. “I think I did. I can’t work for someone like you. Someone who would just kidnap a child so the university had a body to dissect. Without even thoroughly checking the body! You didn’t care who he was or where he came from, only what he could get you. More bodies for the lab means larger classes which means more living bodies that give the university money and you a bonus. Did I get that right?” Finn had gotten very mouthy and all before a call was even made to the police. It was really starting to make me nervous and for some reason, I backed closer to Robert. You may have to act quickly. What if Albert tries to do something rash? Finn seems to slowly be making his blood boil and when you corner an animal...let’s just say there are plenty of things in this room that one could use as a weapon. The voice was back. This time it was telling me that I might possibly need to defend myself, but I wasn’t sure if it was suggesting that I grab a weapon, or how easy it would be for Albert to grab one if he snapped. I knew these hallucinations, the voices, they were all in my head. If they were in my head, then they were just a weird inner voice, distorted and unrecognizable that had taken on a persona of its own. I was smart enough to know that. So, I prepared myself. “Bravo, Dr. Sharpe! You’ve figured us out! Of course money is always the bottom line; that’s how you keep things running.You’re right, we shouldn’t be doing this, but if we don’t then the lab shuts down and if the lab shuts down, then the whole department will and we will no longer be able to offer any sort of courses that involve cadavers, which are pretty much required in all fields of study here at the school so I don’t know what you want me to say.” Albert wasn’t going to admit he was wrong...because he didn’t think he really was. “That we should have done it the right way? You know that the county does the sweeps looking for unclaimed dead and then they check them thoroughly before we get our share. That’s what you should have done.” Finn had finished packing and was now standing tall in defiance. “Except they aren’t doing that, Finneas. They claim that they are and that there just aren’t that many bodies out there which I think is hogwash because—just look at what this city has become. Poverty is rampant, the streets are filthy, prostitutes line the alleys. There are plenty of dead, but I don’t know why we aren’t getting any of them. So, we went and found our own. Go call the police, tell them what you found, tell them about what we did, but you will never work anywhere in this city as a doctor again. I can assure you that.” Albert squared his eyes on Finn who scoffed, nodded, and gave a sloppy two finger salute to the forehead before he turned with bag in hand and took me by the elbow. “You really going to call the cops?” I asked Finn quietly. “You bet I am.” (*) Finn contacted the police and explained the situation to them. He did leave out the part about Albert basically being a body snatcher and said he was a little foggy on the details but was surprised to receive a cadaver like that. The police arrived at the university after quite the wait, interviewed Finn, interviewed Albert, and then interviewed me. My story was pretty much identical to Finn’s, our recognition and familiarity with Robert noted. Finn informed them that we had been contracted by the Dugan’s to photograph Robert and the family after he passed and that they were preparing for the funeral as we were packing up to leave after taking the photos. May not have been the best idea. I don’t think Finn thought about how that might make us look in the situation and I hoped that Albert didn’t catch on and try to have Finn take the fall for something he didn’t do to save the university from collapse. “Alright, Dr. Sharpe. Thank you for identifying the boy; we will contact his family and gently let them know about the situation. We will have to question them though, since the markings on the boy’s body clearly indicate murder and they made no report or attempt to contact the police about it that we know of.” The officer finished taking his notes but paused, “Did you not notice anything strange on the body while you were photographing it?” “No, sir. I never really got close to the body.” Finn admitted. But I stupidly piped up, “I did. I positioned Robert for the photos, but he was dressed nicely, with a high ruffled collar. I didn’t notice anything suspicious.” “We’ll have to keep him for evidence for the time being,” The police officer leaned over the body one more time to get a good look at the ligature before he turned back to me with a snap of the fingers, “Now I know who you are! I knew I recognized your face, but I couldn’t quite pin it...you’re mental woman, the one who helped that private mortuary sell bodies illegally. I was at your trial.” He was smiling like he had seen a celebrity. I just smiled meekly and nodded my head. “I think we are done here, officer. Miss Noxx has had a very eventful day and I think I need to get her home. If you will excuse us; I’m sure you can handle everything else here.” Finn cut in, coming to guide me towards the door as I tried to yank my apron from my body. “I’ll be in contact, Dr. Sharpe.” The officer hollered as Finn got me into the hallway and walked briskly towards the exit. “Finn, why are walking so fast?” I could barely keep up as I clutched to my jumper. “Something about this whole thing isn’t right, plus I didn’t like how that officer referred to you. I need to think about this—all of this.” Finn pushed me through the door to the university and steered me towards the car. “Someone murdered that boy, Finn. And the family did nothing about it. What have we gotten ourselves caught in the middle of?” I hadn’t been prepared for any of this and the severity wasn’t lost on me. Finn paused before he started the car, “Yes. And my employer is nicking dead bodies off the streets without verifying them. Two separate issues, but both deeply troubling none the less.” And he was right. Two separate issues...but they were somehow linked. The chances of the university finding Albert’s body in a city alley were nearly impossible, especially because he had been buried, and based on the description of his state of dress—it seemed like he had crawled out of his own grave. I swallowed hard at the thought and tried not to think about it. I was sure that Finn would have a million and one questions for me when we returned to his home and I needed to prepare myself mentally to answer all of those. My hallucinations were going to come to light and I was going to have to confess to what I was seeing, even if the doctor thought me absolutely mad. I had to be honest about my illness because I didn’t want to be known as “that mental woman” any longer. |
E.M. MoonStories from the World Wide Weird Archives
December 2021
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