Melinda’s office is in a dark room at the back of the shop. There’s a window that lets in a sliver of light, but the room is so dusty it’s nearly impossible to tell where the light comes from. When she sits, the wooden chair she sits on creaks loudly. The only other chair in the room is covered with books.
“I’ve been thinking a lot about Owl since you first reached out to me,” Melinda says. Her tone reminds me of my kindergarten teacher, caring, but concerned.
“We’ve learned a lot since then, too. Though…” I don’t know how to bring up the topic of the seances or Alexis.
Melinda butts in, “I’ve guessing at this point you’ve learned about Alexis and I? And our history? You met Alexis outside, of course.”
The clerk out front. Well, that solved that.
“We found the newspaper report on the seance, that’s it.”
Melinda laughs.
“Okay, well, I guess I should just clear a few things up. Alexis and I have been together for,” she pauses, looking up at the ceiling like its a calculator, “24 years now? In that time, we’ve done a lot of things this town has viewed as strange, including the seance you’re talking about. But look, this is a small town, we’re two outspoken woman who don’t fall into the usual societal norms, and when you put all that together, people write little stories in their head. Sometimes those stories get recorded in a newspaper.”
“What was the point of the seance, though?”
“The point? Just to see what would happen. Nothing did. But now we can check that one off the list as we go about our search for truth and reality. You know, Sally, you strike me as someone who’d agree with our cause. It’s trial-and-error. I just want to find what this reality is worth,” She gestures around her, as though “reality” and “worth” are two words that often get paired together.
“So,” I decide to be careful, here, “All these books? It’s a search for meaning? Through ritual?”
“Sometimes it’s through a ritual, sometimes it’s through meditation, sometimes it’s through eating. I haven’t found any ideas that proved exactly right, but few ideas are completely wrong.” Melinda smiles her teacherly smile.
I don’t really have much to say. I have never been a spiritual person, and don’t have all that much interest in it, but Melinda’s almost scientific approach is fascinating, even if it seems pointless. When my mom left for the commune, I closed my mind to all of this and while in retrospective the sort of magical sublayer in Owl has been here, I never thought about it being spiritual. It was always just code for something else.
“But I feel like I should tell you,” Melinda’s voice wavers slightly, “I think Owl is a hoax. Likely started by a Jesuit scholar named Athanasius Kircher, and picked up later his followers.”
“That name, Athanasius. I’ve seen it before, that’s the name attributed to the maps we have.” I turn around to ask Gus the last name of his supposed librarian, but remember he’s still out on the street, likely still sneezing.
“His followers take his name, usually. Or they did, anyway. It’s such an uncommon same nowadays I think they avoid it.”
“To what end, though? Why run with a hoax of a group who… Honestly, I don’t even know what Owl is supposed to have done. We have the book of maps and maybe some text from a librarian about a ritual. Everything I’ve seen or heard of them comes from the book Gus has.”
“Where did Gus get that book?”
“I’m not sure.” It never occurred to me to ask where the book came from.
“Sally,” Melinda squares her shoulders at me. “Gus could be one of those followers.”
“That doesn’t make any sense. He’s been fumbling through this as much as I have.”
“We don’t know the purpose of any of this, right? If it’s real, it has some endgame. If it’s a hoax, it’s just about going for as long as possible. Have you heard of the Voynich manuscript?”
“No.”
“It’s this mysterious book that’s captured the interest of cryptographers because it appears to feature text written in a cypher nobody’s seen before. Or it’s all bullshit. People have been studying it for decades and have found nothing. The arguments about its validity are as heated as they are about it’s supposed authorship.”
“I don’t see what this has to do with Owl, though?”
“I just mean to point out that, reality isn’t a state of simply existing, there are layers, and those who purport to know the truth may often lead us toward their own ends, not a useful one.”
“What?”
Melinda smiles. “I’ve spent a lot of time here in Sedona, Sally. Owl isn’t worth pursuing. The vortexes won’t get you anywhere.”
I return her smile, and move to leave. “Thanks for your time, Melinda.”
