Phil Rickman - The Lamp of the Wicked

Sam reached over his shoulder and pulled a loose-leaf binder from a shelf behind him. ‘I’m not gonna make you read this, I just want you to know it exists. It’s the report of a six-year study out of Bristol University, linking power lines to a bunch of different cancers, depression and an estimated sixty suicides a year.’

‘I didn’t know about the suicides,’ Merrily said. ‘But I’ve heard about the other health scares.’

‘It’s estimated that the deaths caused by power lines equate with the number of fatalities on the road. But, as only one in fifty of the population lives under power lines, that makes the risk fifty times as big. We’re talking heavy shit here, Reverend, and it’s no surprise that governments and the power industry try to rubbish it.’

‘I understand that, but…’

‘But where do you come in? I’m getting there. Let’s look at what’s more or less proven. Magnetic fields reduce the body’s production of melatonin, which is manufactured by the pineal gland at night and regulates mood. People living under power lines suffer insomnia – sleep deprivation. And because of the reduced melatonin levels, people living under power lines are prone to depression. Sure, you’ll find wonderfully cheerful, fit characters who spent their whole lives under 140,000 volts – some folk produce more melatonin than others. However, those with a tendency to depression may find they become very depressed. And those already very depressed may become suicidal.’

‘And people suffering from manic depression…?’

‘May become more manic and more depressed. Loosely, whatever you got there’s a strong possibility that electromagnetism will intensify it. And a certain number of people are gonna develop a chronic condition that we called electro-hypersensitivity – EH. That’s where the whole body becomes allergic to electricity. So you see, the risks from power lines are many and varied… and more varied than any of us could’ve imagined.’

He replaced the loose-leaf folder on the shelf, placed his hands on his knees and looked down, gathering his argument.

‘When I was living near the Nevada Desert, in the eighties, the alternative lifestyle was getting jaded – too many bad drugs, too much paranoia. The spark had gone out. Around the time my daughter got sick, one of the guys in the commune started rambling about saucers coming in the night, landing in the desert. Humanoids in silver suits who came and took him out of his bed and messed him around. Ten years earlier, we’d have been like: Hey, cool, let’s all light candles, get out there and welcome the mothership, man! In the eighties, however, we were suspecting he might be a little crazy.’

‘A lot of it about – alien-abduction stories.’

‘Sure. Those were paranoid times, the Reagan years. Was it aliens, or was it the government?’

‘So when did you hear about Melanie Pullman’s experience?’ Merrily asked.

‘Aha!’ He leaned forward. ‘Who told you about that?’

‘Her family called in my predecessor, suspecting their house might be haunted. We actually have files.’

‘And you’ve seen the file?’

‘Yes.’ She told him about the red or orange light bathing the bed, Melanie’s belief that she was taken away by grey creatures with big eyes like mirrors and subjected to an examination that ended with one of them having sexual intercourse with her. ‘Which she seems to have found not entirely unpleasant.’

‘Good,’ Sam Hall said. ‘I mean, that’s right. That’s what she told me.’

‘When was this?’

‘Year or so after she saw the priest, I’d guess. She told me he’d said some prayers and threw a little holy water around but that it didn’t help much, long term.’

‘So it happened again.’

‘Twice. Not precisely the same, but similar enough as makes no difference.’

‘This was widely known around the village?’

Hell, no. Nobody wants to be thought crazy. No, it came out when I ran into Melanie one day leaving the doctor’s surgery – Ruck, you know him? Asshole of the old school. Anyway, the kid looked like shit, and the point is, I knew where she lived, and I’d heard she hadn’t been well.’

‘She lived on the former council estate.’

‘Yeah, but whereabouts? Right in the arc of the turning circle at the end of Goodrich Close is where. The damn pylon – next one along to the one where Roddy Lodge died – is almost in the back garden. The lines are directly overhead. Plus you’re in line with the TV booster across the valley and… I won’t go on, but this is close to the centre of the hot spot defined by Lodge’s garage and the old Baptist Chapel.’

‘So you think…’ Merrily was getting an idea of where this was going. She remembered Canon Dobbs’s conclusion that Melanie Pullman had undergone a genuine hallucinatory or dream experience, had not been making it up. ‘You think that the effects of, for instance, sleep loss caused by electromagnetism might have been causing her to hallucinate. Like your friend under the power lines in the Nevada Desert?’

‘Which, at the time, we attributed to far too many drugs over the years. But let me say first of all, this is not only me. There’s been considerable research – OK, fringe research, but that’s how it usually starts – which demonstrates a correlation between both alien-visitation experiences and some plain old- fashioned hauntings, and the presence of high-voltage overhead lines, usually in conjunction with other radiation from TV transmitters, mobile-phone masts, sub-stations… I could find you scores of examples.’

‘Well, sure… but how is it explained?’

‘The effect of electromagnetic fields on the brain… on specific areas of the brain – irradiation of the temporal lobes, for instance, can promote a sensation of what you might call “presence”. Of not being alone. Stimulation of the septum area of the brain can produce intense sexual sensations, which explains—’

‘Except that, in Melanie’s case, there was also, if I recall, a vaginal infection?’

‘Mrs Watkins…’ Sam spread his hands. ‘I wouldn’t claim to be any kind of authority on women’s clinical conditions. However, the growth on the body of various fungal bacteria, of the candida type, can, I assure you, be accelerated by exposure to a significant degree of electromagnetism. You are free to check this out with whatever scientific or medical sources you may have access to.’

‘Can I have a cigarette?’

‘Depends what kind of lighter you have… No, I’m kidding, help yourself. If tobacco was all we had to worry about, I’d be a happier man. Look, Mrs Watkins, this kind of stuff is not helpful to me or my cause, which is why I’ve never made an issue of it. Tell the Great British Public they could be in for leukaemia or a brain tumour and you’ve got their full attention. Warn them of possible encounters with alien beings or a ghost in the bedroom, they heave a big sigh of relief, say: “Phew, so it can’t be true about the cancer either.” Believe me, I do not need this shit. I beg your pardon if that seems to be demeaning your profession – it wasn’t intended that way.’

‘Don’t worry about it. What happened with Melanie?’

‘She worked at a chemist’s, in Ross, and I met her for lunch one day and it all came out. For instance, for some time she’d been finding it impossible to watch TV and was going up to her room – which made it worse, of course. Her room was at the rear of the house, backing onto the pylon, wires zooming immediately overhead. She couldn’t sleep and… you know the rest. Also, by this time, she was becoming allergic to her place of work – all those huge bright lights in the drugstore. I advised her to start looking for another job… someplace darker, at least.’