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“Scams of the Dimensionally Divergent”
The following is a Darkest Entry show transcript. Included is a transcript of the show, accompanied by personal notes written by the host that give further details of the evening. His commentary will be written in italics between the dialogue.
Announcer: “Every day, the pages turn and new stories are written about the miraculous and strange events that occur before our very eyes. Will tonight's story be the newest, Darkest Entry?”
The Author: “Good evening my curious listeners and welcome to another episode of Darkest Entry - the show where I, the Author, walk with you amongst the irregular and attempt to explain the unexplainable.”
“Now imagine a person sitting before you, maybe wearing an eccentric outfit, surrounded by strange toys and trinkets that fill the room in which they work. They ask for you to place your hands on the table and they begin to trace the wrinkles and lines of your palm with the tip of their nail. You will break up with your girlfriend as she was born with the wrong star sign, they tell you, and you will quit your well paying job due to the possibility of a microwave suddenly combusting while heating your plastic box of day old gochujang flavored chicken wings. Amazing. All the details of the future suddenly revealed and for a low, low price, similar to a large box of pizza. Delivered straight to you by a mysterious stranger; a graduate of the internet, with tens of hours of research. The world is filled with these ‘professionals’ that make a name for themselves in the metaphysical world by making vague predictions at best or fabricating communication with the dead at worst. Tonight, we are going to focus on this branch of metaphysical professionals that have a storied past with allegedly successful practitioners but mostly in modern times have been infiltrated with gaslighting hobbyists and deceitful hoaxers. Let’s explore psychics, first with listener calls. The phone lines are now open.”
“First caller of the night, you’re on the air.”
Caller 1: “Hey Author, first time caller, I think you’re wrong on this one. I once paid a psychic at the mall for a card reading and he nailed it.”
Author: “Go on, listener.”
Caller 1: “Well, I just went in there for some help with the direction of my career and he had me draw three cards -the burglar, the steer and the valley. He said these cards, drawn in this order, represented a possible deadend in my life, that my talents were being wasted and that I could begin a new trajectory if I refocused my skills.
Author: “And you’ve already discovered the meaning of each of these clues?”
Caller 1: “I think so. I just had the reading done last Thursday. It cost much more than a pizza by the way. 80 bucks per session!”
Author: “Wait so what could he possibly have said that has already come true?”
Caller 1: “I quit my job because my bosses were dumb. I wasn’t being recognized for any of my best qualities.”
Author: “Can you share with us what work you were doing?”
Caller 1: “I was an accountant for the province.”
Author: “And your talent that was being wasted?”
Caller 1: “I’m a singing poet. My style is both beautiful and edgy, it’s good stuff.”
Author: “Why would they need you to sing at a tax office? Couldn’t you just do that on the side? Actually…wait, singing poet? How is that different from just a singer who writes their own lyrics?”
Caller 1: “I thought you were different, Author but you’ve got it all wrong. I thought you saw this flat world through a different lens than everyone else.”
Author: “My lenses are curved, like the Earth caller, and I use them to see the truth. You are simply a contrarian and do the opposite of what you’re told. Check that your pants are turned the right way before your next trip to the urinal, listener. Next caller.”
Remind myself to revisit idiotic disproven conspiracies and help some of the misguided listeners focus on things that actually matter. Flat-earthers should focus their attention on more concrete evidence such as of the hollow Earth theory.
Caller 2: “Yo Author, I just wanted to say that you’re totally dead-on with these fake psychics. I was overseas and we thought it would be cool to listen to a fortune teller from this village we went sightseeing at. Anyways, they burned some herbs, said some words and then drew pictures with some ‘sacred’ ink. None of it came true at all.”
Author: “Ah, these experiences are at least more based in tradition rather than modern deception. These are where some of the few cases where we see real talent are found but deception is common as well. It’s a shame that it didn’t work out for you, listener. What did the pictures they drew for you look like?”
Caller 2: “My friend Jeff was depicted escaping a burning forest by holding onto a giant metal bird. Bianca was shown holding a fruit basket along with a mannequin. Just a single orange was actually in the basket. I was shown standing in front of a cracked mirror that my parents were holding. Mom and Dad were crying. Kinda sad.”
Author: “That’s a lot of symbolism. So none of you saw something that could relate to the psychics' predictions?”
Caller 2: “Well Jeff never traveled to any forest that got set on fire. He did however fly straight to Italy after getting a huge payout from a car accident. City logging truck too so it was definitely a fat wad of cash. Been there for about a year now. Then Bianca’s was actually kinda close but not really. She’s become a fashion designer whose whole gimmick is basing her designs on vegetables. Not an orange or even a fruit. Me, I guess I’ve got a good relationship with my parents most of the time. Haven’t seen them ever cry. “
Author: “What do you think a mirror represents?”
Caller 2: “In my opinion, a cracked mirror probably means you’ve shattered everyone’s expectations, to the point that they don’t even recognize you. Like you finally removed an eyebrow piercing that they didn’t like or dyed your hair.”
Author: “And the crying parents?”
Caller 2: “Probably sadness but what's there to be sad about in my life? I mean, they’ve been nagging me about why I dropped out of college to pursue stand-up comedy but that’s a joyous occasion, so I’d say it’s not a realistic vision at all. I wasn’t going to follow in the footsteps of my podiatrist dad. I hate feet, man.”
Author: “Thanks for your input, caller. Maybe pass on observational comedy and find the address of that psychic for me.”
Caller 2: You mean that SCAMMERS ad-....”
Author: “Let’s take a few more callers. Howdy listener, welcome to the discussion. Hello? Is your radio on? There seems to be some distortion…”
The phone connection with the third caller was very strange almost immediately upon answering the call. There was an intense echo along with a tremendously low, buzzing static sound. This caller’s actual voice was so close to my ear somehow that it felt like they were physically next to me, speaking with their own mouth into my ear. It could plausibly be on my end with some technical mishap causing the interference but the call stabilized finally, with the distortion fading away like a bad case of tinnitus. I could hear the caller loud and clear, like a normal phone conversation.
Author: “Apologies to everyone for any unpleasant noises. Let’s begin again with your story, listener.”
Caller 3: “It’s fine. The stories tonight so far have been from the other side of the table. I’d like to provide a different
view.”
Author: “Please explain, listener.”
C3: “You may call me Alouma. Do you have any assistants at your station?”
Author: “I’m afraid that I can’t answer that question. Though I share many parts of my work as a detective, I’ll remind you and all listeners that I must remain totally anonymous to continue my duties. Even details about the station are off limits.”
Alouma: “Understandable. This is my first time tuning in so I was unaware. I only ask because it would’ve been easier to grab the package that I sent you if you had an assistant. I don’t want you to have to step away from your show to retrieve it.”
Author: “Details about my station are not public information. This is obviously a prank call as you couldn't possibly know the address.”
Alouma: “8….9….”
Author: “Quiet!”
Alouma: “That was just a prank, Author. I would never reveal the full address. Now go get that package.”
Author: “....just a moment please everyone. I will press the mute button while I'm away just in case they try to
speak again. Don’t go anywhere.”
Author: “...”
The current location where I was broadcasting could not have been more off of the grid. I stuck to my rules of broadcasting in several places throughout the year. I was only using the tools from my portable setup and my truck was located much farther away from here in a place where it didn’t stick out. The building was fully abandoned and there was no paper trail linking it to any owner, let alone myself. This was location 683F, the former park ranger forest outpost that was abandoned to put a more technologically advanced building a few kilometers north. It is still scheduled to be demolished but I think they’ll never get around to it due to cost and it’d be trouble to bring heavy machinery this far in. There was no explainable reason at this moment as to how this listener could have known where the station was.
Now, I did find a box at the door. Small, cardboard, a little wet from the weather. I gave it a little shake and could hear something fairly small shaking around amongst styrofoam kernels. It would be reckless to fully trust the package without additional examination, so I walked it over to my portable tool cabinet. This cabinet was smaller than what I had at homebase but it had enough. I took a quick scan with a magnetic imaging device and it revealed a small, metallic rectangle inside with buttons and what looked to be a speaker. It was obviously a communication device so I scanned it with an RF detector but there was no incoming or outgoing signal. Finally, I reached in and grabbed a bottle containing one of my many slugs. This particular slug was from the southeastern region, near the rumored entrance of the Indrekaphan forever forest. It’s famous in the paranormal world for reflecting spiritual frequencies in the form of sound. When placed onto the box, however, there was no reaction. Quiet as any slug. I picked up a few more precautionary items and brought them to my desk where I was broadcasting, now more carefully.
Author: “I have returned with a cardboard box from our strange guest. It appears I have made a major error that has led to an information leak of the station. This information won’t ever be known again.”
Alouma: “Is that really up to you?”
Author: “Was it you yourself who delivered this package?”
Alouma: “No but I’d like to help you with your topic tonight.”
Author: “I’m very close to ending the broadcast for the evening due to this unfortunate disclosure. Say what you must and I’ll make my decision.”
Alouma: “You’ve spoken with two people who dealt with psychics that predict the future. Would you like to speak with a psychic that can talk with the dead?”
Author: “And this would be you yourself?”
Alouma: “Open the box.”
Author: “Tell me what’s inside. You’ve already crossed a boundary and I'm in no position to trust that this boxis safe.”
Author: “...”
Author: “...”
Author: “It’s ringing?”
Alouma: “Answer it.”
Author: “Who is on the other side of the line?”
Alouma: “That’s up to you. Any passed family members or friends that you’ve been dying to speak to?”
Author: “...”
Author: “If there’s no specific person calling the phone, how is it ringing?”
Alouma: “The batteries won’t last this questioning. Think about who you want to speak with.”
Author: “...batteries…on a device that speaks to the dead…what a load of bull…Okay, I’ve got the phone out. How does it know who I want to talk to?”
Alouma: “Just say ‘Hello’ and their name.”
I reluctantly pressed the answer key, put the phone on speaker and held the phone to the microphone. For a brief moment, I listened for any noise on the other side but it was dead silent. So I began to speak…
Author: “Hello…is Stronton Merry there?”
…: “...”
…: “...”
Unknown Voice: “Hello?...is that you Author?”
Author: “Hello, my friend. It’s been awhile.”
Unknown Voice: “I guess so. How long exactly?”
Author: “A little over a year now. ”
Unknown Voice: “Ah, feels much longer than that.”
Author: “Where are you?”
Unknown Voice: “Well, dead. As far as I know. Don’t you know where I am? How’d you call me, after all?”
Author: “I wish I did. We have a strange caller tonight that appears to have connected us here, now.”
Unknown Voice: “Huh. Must be having a good show. I miss listening to you, crazy bastard.”
Author: “We miss your insights, no matter how crazy and hillbilly they were.”
Unknown Voice: “Yup. Call me back when you find that skunk ape I seen all those years ago. Maybe he’s
dead too. Maybe I’ll find him myself.”
Author: “I guess anything is possible. What’s it look like? Heaven, hell, purgatory, bardo?”
Unknown Voice: “It’s not quite hell but there’s no one giving directions. I just feel weaker, bit by bit, just walking around here.”
Author: “Yeah, you sound older than you did when you were a caller on the show.”
Unknown Voice: “Ain’t t..t a b..ch.”
Author: “What was that Stronton? Your voice is a little low.”
Unknown Voice: “....b…..ac….h……re…..”
Unknown Voice: “...”
Unknown Voice: “...”
Author: “Alouma, did the call drop?”
Alouma: ”Yes, the line won’t stay open long.”
Author: “Was that really him? He was a loyal fan of the show since near the beginning.”
Alouma: “Then you should know.”
Author: “This would be quite the feat if you are telling the truth. I’ll admit that I have no legitimate reason to say that wasn’t him other than that it was through your device, stranger. Can you explain to us what exactly it is?”
Alouma: “I have created a viable communication device that reaches where I could already reach myself..”
Author: “Very interesting. Why send it to me?”
Alouma: “Shouldn’t you feel honored?”
Author: “Well you said it’s your first time listening. How do you know about me, where I live and why send this…”
Author: “...”
Author: “...phone? I can’t find it.”
Alouma: “Careless, aren’t you.”
Author: “...”
Author: “Damnit, where is it? Did I put it back in the box? Shoot… I can’t find that either.”
Alouma: “Not very professional to let things slip away so easily.”
Author: “Did you take it back somehow?”
Alouma: “No. You just lost it and I’m afraid that means you’re likely to lose much more.”
Author: “Everything is explainable, even your tricks.”
Alouma: “Should I send another delivery your way?”
Author: “Sure. Let me greet them this time.”
Alouma: “Knock-knock. Now go check.”
Author: “...”
Author: “...”
Author: “The door is gone. Who’s banging on the door, you?”
Alouma: “Now that really is careless, you lost an entire door?”
At this moment, one by one, things that were clearly visible to me just moments before were disappearing from my vision entirely. I was sliding my hands all over the table and looking down in my clearly lit room but the phone and the box were truly both gone. I looked around the room quickly and it was like looking through a filter. It wasn’t quite foggy but the room had parts that were falling more opaque by the second. Exactly where the door should have been was nothing but a concrete wall. My eyes and hands were hopeless to find any remnant of it at all. I could only see the broadcast equipment, the table and my chair. In the moments that followed, Alouma’s voice was only getting louder but the strangest part of it all, it was textured with multiple tones. At first very subtly but soon there was no doubt that there was a lower version and a higher version of the same voice, all speaking in unison.
Author: “What the hell are you?”
Alouma: “You asked for psychics and here I am. I even let you talk to a dear old friend but you don’t sound grateful.”
Author: “I’m not even sure that was him.”
Alouma: “But it sounded like him? And you had a conversation that sure sounded like old friends.
Author: “I don’t let someone play games with me so easily.”
Alouma: “It seems as if my voice has already dug quite deep.”
Author: “What are you getting at with all of this?”
Alouma: “We’ll get there, I’m in no hurry. You can stop running your hands against the wall already. If you haven’t found the door yet then you’re hopeless.”
Author: “Are you in the room now? Why do you sound so close?”
Alouma: “Warmer.”
Author: “...”
Author: “This is still just a phone call. Which means I can just hang up at any time.”
Alouma: “Fine. I’ll do it for you.”
Alouma: “...”
The disconnect tone rang from my headphones. They did hang up and I even glanced at the indicator on my screen - call disconnected.
Alouma: “You’re welcome.”
Author: “What the hell? I still hear you. Is this related to how you talk to spirits?”
Unknown Voice: “You got your facts straight, buddy.”
Author: “Stronton?!”
Alouma: “So close.”
Author: “Damn, I knew I was right to question it.”
The voice momentarily switched to a very clear interpretation of Stronton Merry. I was quite unsure how she could imitate someone on the spot, from my memory and now in my own head. I still had not seen anybody or any spectre in the room. This was still somehow a private, peer to peer call. The room began to shift further and further from reality, with pieces of my desk fading out of my sight.
Alouma: “Do you think your listeners fell for it as well?”
Author: “I don’t think I'll give you any more audience with them. Where the hell is my control board?!”
Alouma: “You’re losing it, Author. Just ask for my help.”
Author: “Your voice still remains without a speaker or headphones. How?”
Alouma: “Let my voice rock you gently to sleep. Forever”
Author: “Listeners, if you can still hear me, turn the radio off!”
Alouma: “Find it, Author. Find the off button! Find it! Find it!”
Author: “Go to hell.”
Alouma: “If only I could. Hell. Heaven. Anywhere. Yet here we are.”
Author: “Are you even human?”
Alouma: “Take a look Author. Listen to my voice and look closely.”
Author: “…”
Author: “Is…that you, sitting down?”
Alouma: “Human enough?”
A body materialized, near the corner of the room between where the door used to be and where my desk was set up. She was sitting down with her hands clasped in her lap with a blank gaze on her face. She appeared to be maybe in her thirties, with long dark hair everywhere except in the front where she had short straight bangs. Her face was soft and round with a lovely caramel shade contrasting immensely dark brown eyes. She was dressed in nearly all black, from her buttoned down shirt to her slacks and finally her long platformed boots. Around her shoulders was a large and bright orange coat that looked almost like a repurposed patchwork quilt. She looked normal, fashionable and even beautiful.
Author: “So you’re Alouma?”
Alouma: “I guess so. Remember it while you can”
Author: “...”
Author: “I can’t see anything now but…you…the room is so black…”
Alouma: “I’ll be your voice. Your thoughts. Your reason for existence. I just need you in return.”
Author: “My legs, listeners, please, you have to turn your radio off. Don’t listen to this woman.”
Alouma: “Can they hear you? Are you moving your lips? Without a microphone, no one cares.”
Author: “…”
Author: “…”
Alouma: “...”
This was my final chance as I felt my body totally collapsing into itself. Sight, smell, touch, all my senses were going away and I didn’t even know if I could lift my arm in a few seconds. It was fortunate that I had visited my cabinet to investigate the package. The slug was still in my pocket next to my special black book. I wasn’t going to make the same mistake as I did with the hypnotist a few months ago. I clumsily grabbed the book from my pocket, struggling to grip the pages before dropping it. I dug my nail into the top of the slugs bottle and pressed with all the might I had left.
Alouma: “...”
Alouma: “Where…is that noise coming fr-from?”
Author: “...”
Alouma: “That noise…heh…is this what it feels like…I hate it…heh.”
Author: “Too bad you’re not a fortune teller after all.”
Alouma: “shut…up…sh..ut…up…s..errr…”
Author: “This is what you get when you talk to earworm. He’s a slug but I think you’ll find the name fitting.”
Alouma: “oh god…it’s…everywhere…”
Author: “I can’t hear a thing. I guess you did take over my body after all, unfortunately my brain as well.”
The slug that was now crawling along my leg, excreting its mucus as it slithered along. In addition to reflecting paranormal wavelengths, when in contact with someone's skin, this slug’s mysterious mucus transmits a toxic pathogen that travels to the brain and creates powerful sound hallucinations. The ringing is so deep and penetrating that thoughts are eviscerated and limbs lose the signals directed to them from the brain. As long as the slug is touching your skin, the slime is a live threat. This was my gamble and it depended just how deep she really was in my mind.
I couldn’t confirm if I was in my body anymore as all I saw was this woman, writhing and flinching on the ground, pounding her fist in all the blackness that filled my field of vision. She had somehow seeped into my deepest consciousness and her frequencies overrode all of my own. I had only my thoughts and she could hear those too but after releasing Earworm, I was like a living ghost in the room, watching this wretched parasite squirm.
It wasn’t long before the audial assault seemed to reach just as far into her own consciousness as she did to mine but Earworm doesn’t speak, he only causes disruptions. These disruptions appeared to break through far enough to disrupt the vessel that was holding whatever Alouma actually was. She would soon begin to scream with a deep and monstrous bellowing. Her body convulsed and started to bend unnaturally for a human and tiny limbs poked out of her skin, slimy and dark green with a life of their own.
Only a few seconds passed before there were surely more than fifty of these tentacles like feelers protruding all over her body. Bit by bit, her human-like skin slid off the bone and silently fizzled on the ground, dissolving quickly. Underneath, puke colored skin began to multiply and expand, slapping onto itself and conforming into one repulsive mess of meat and slime. Her face was no longer soft and beautiful. Her eyes stretched further and further, with dark red veins lining the perimeter and the pupils shrinking to the middle before becoming more vertically elongated.
Every other part of his face turned to sludge and slipped off to be absorbed by the putrid amalgamation of tentacles and flesh. Slowly, the eyes merged down towards the center of its new configuration, like a misshapen cone with a round and bumpy base that came to a dull point at the top of its body. Alouma’s body, if they still went by that name, solidified during a final disgusting gurgling where the various pieces of skin vibrated into their final, wrinkled place. Every inch was potholed or lumpy, with tentacles scattered all throughout, each swaying with a life of their own.
Alouma: “This…weak…flesh…”
Author: “Good grief woman…”
Alouma: “ErrreaaeeghhhhHHHAEEREEREMNAERRRR!”
Author: “The demon side cannot be contained in human form any longer.”
Alouma: “I…am not…de-demon….”
Author: “...”
Author: “Where did you come from then? Space?”
Alouma: “Ha…ha…if only I knew…but if only you knew…what’s coming haha…worse than hell…yes…”
Author: “Spill it. Can’t you see you’ve lost control of the situation?”
Alouma: “I still have…more ways…your audience was listening too…just like many others before…they belong to me…I will drain every drop of life…and feed…”
Author: “You bastard parasite!”
Alouma: “...”
Alouma: “...”
Alouma: “Damnit…the connection…I…didn’t reach anyone…but you…”
Author: “The signal must have died at some point...”
Alouma: “I can’t stay here…the bubble is going to pop…the squeeze…is coming…I need more energy…”
Author: “Soon your grip on me will fade. I can already feel my hands again. If something is endangering both of us, let’s help each other. We don’t have to be friends but I’d rather not let a disaster happen if it's beyond you and I.”
Alouma: “Even after I….tried to rip out…y-your life?”
Author: “Yes.”
Alouma: “Then you don’t have what it takes…to make it out of…the prison.”
Author: “AHHHH! EARMWORM….SH….”
Alouma: “Where is the phone?”
Author: “...DA….M…..ER……AHHHH…..”
Author: “...”
Author: “...”
Alouma: “…”
Author: “Ah…dang slug, are you okay? Didn’t mean to throw you but my limbs were still tingling. Damnit, she’s gone. Looks like the radio signal disconnected. Call dropped too. Man…my wires are all fried…thank god the recorder is battery operated. I need to check out the logging system to see what the last thing the audience heard.”
Alouma must have released her control of me moments before she fled. All of Earworm’s punishing tones switched to me and the room came back into my vision in an instant. I struggled to process what happened next due to my painful companion before I pulled him off my leg but she appeared to grab the phone off the desk, proving it had never actually moved. My guess is that her voice carried a special type of wave that acts like a virus in your mind, shutting down one's control of their own faculties, like a form of hypnosis. That’s why she took the full brunt of Earthworm's signals as I was placed on the backburner until she let go. She was gone so quickly after letting me go. She grabbed the phone and left without a trace. Did she use my phone to get here in the first place?
I looked around the room and it was as if nothing had happened at all. The desk was still intact and even the loose papers had not been flung off despite the commotion. There was no video evidence of the broadcast as I don’t record any video ever but my logging system recorded the last audio that was sent out to the listeners.
“Hello? Is your radio on? There seems to be some distortion…” and then several minutes of the terrible distortion. Useless but telling. I didn’t get a single syllable of her voice on the air. My cheap system must have been overpowered and fried. I guess that’s for the best, for once.
I packed all my things to return home, essentially decommissioning the already abandoned station. I found my black book that I had to toss out of the way to get the slug. There was a bent page that I had grabbed during the effort. I opened it to flatten out the annoying accidental bookmark and saw a newly recorded fingerprint in the process. This mysterious book captured the spiritual essence of Alouma even through my own body.
I now had something concrete to investigate but if just her voice alone can infect others, I’d have to potentially let it be until I became more knowledgeable about this unknown type of monster.