In Memoriam

Ricky

Ricky sits in a fancy leather wingback chair with one leg crossed casually over the other. He's wearing professorial clothes: brown slacks, white button up shirt under a blazer with patches on the elbow, brown loafers, and dress socks in colorful geometric patterns. He's got a dashing scarf of black with occult symbols in red stitching around his neck. He sits in front of a hearth with a blazing fire, occult props and books litter the mantle as well as a small table next to his chair.

"Hello, my name is Ricky Dijkgraf, professional medium. You may remember me from my time from "Spector Sleuths." Well now I am available to help you. Are you lost in life? Do you feel alone and lack direction? Do you have brushes with the supernatural? I'm here to help. I can speak to loved ones from beyond the veil, peer into the future to give you advice for a brighter tomorrow, or even analyze your psychic aura to help you solve the problems in your life. Please, don't struggle any longer. Call the number on the bottom of your now. 1-800-RICKYDI. That's 1-800-742-5934. Pick up the phone and let the supernatural become a natural part of your life."

Ricky smiles for the camera and picks up one of the books on the small table as the scene fades to black.

Joe Glickmann

Santa Monica Expressway, 11June:

Morty! the older man exclaimed, the joy in his voice never reaching his eyes. To what do I owe the dubious honor of your call?

The gravelly voice on the other end of the call was one Mortimer Denisovich, "Morty" to his clients, "Ayeee. It's what you pay me for. Listen, I gotta a new gig for you. Little 'out there' but it's what the kids like these days. Viral Clicks and Tumbles or Tweets or something."

Morty, I dunno. he sounded tired, the kind of tired that wells up from the soul outward. Maybe...maybe it's time to just hang it up and buy a restaurant like Alan Hale. I don't know the first thing about these new productions. It's all 4K this and LiveStream that. Plus, I can't be too close to these new cameras. They catch every line and wrinkle in 'glorious HD'... he took his hands off the wheel long enough to 'jazz hands' his disdain.

"Look, just slip the camera guy some cash to catch your good side. They don't pay those guys squat." Morty laughed like a freight train's death rattle. "Look, you'll be doin' me a favor here. I been tryin' to fill this slot for a month and they're close to filming. Do me this solid and I promise I'll get you booked on a Late Show somewhere. Kimmel or Meyers maybe. They're no Letterman or Carson but who is? Right?"

You're not filling me with confidence about this schtick, Morty."

"Ayeee, just do me this solid, alright? What's it gonna do? Kill ya? Mort laughed again and Joe swore he could smell the agent's bad breath and rotten taste in cigars through the phone.

Yeah, okay. Pencil me in for the spot but you owe me, Mort. You. Owe. Me. Joe hung up the call before he reconsidered.

Professor

The audio recording comes to life with rustling of paper and background noise of what seems to be an outdoors cafe - murmurs of people too far away to pick up, cars moving by somewhere further, clinking of cutlery and muted jazz music. It's a little too noisy, a little too casual to be an official interview, and a completely unamused voice of one Narcissus Vonsham only confirms it.

"...And why exactly are you recording this?"

There is a sound of a slight chuckle as the one recording responds.

"For posterity." There is a pause, and an impression of Narcissus staring the other down. After a moment, they amend: "And personal interest. Remember, the ghost hunting club?"

"The same ghost hunting club which I advised you against joining, yes." Narcissus makes a displeased sound. "Fine, if you want to use it in your meetings, go ahead. Maybe if the story scares you enough, you and your colleagues will actually quit it."

"Splendid! So, I know most of the official story - statements from the show producer, police reports, interviews, all that reached the public. There are plenty of speculations about which ones are closer to the truth. Would you say that any of them are accurate representation of what happened?"

"What do you think?" Narcissus scoffs. The audio recorder picks up as he taps his fingers against the table. "For all the faults of this show and the improbability of its topic, I'm quite confident that no one there actually believed in ghosts - with a few exceptions, perhaps, but I doubt our director actually expected the building to be haunted." He pauses, and there is a frown audible in the next words. "I didn't expect it to be haunted, and I used to work there. Either way, claiming that we have encountered an actual ghost wouldn't have resulted in anything but the wrong kind of attention - it's all fine and easy when you do it for a show, and a completely different story when you're claiming it to the law enforcement."

"And you lied to the police, right?"

"Are you sure you're recording this for personal interest?.. No, I did not lie to the police, I described everything I saw and experienced in perfect detail. However, I did imply that most of it was hallucinations caused by an unidentified gas which has been collecting in the building's hall due to its poor maintenance. Truth be told, I'm still mildly surprised that none of us got arrested."

"...Weren't you?..."

"Not for murder charges." Narcissus sighs, and a hint of sadness creeps into his voice. "Apparently forensics somehow concluded that we couldn't have been the culprits. They didn't share the details, but it probably had to do with fire mostly destroying the bodies. No evidence against us, combined with the recording from the camera... " He trails off, not finishing the thought.

Silence reigns for a moment, with only background sounds on the recording. The other person finally breaks it after a minute or so.

"Do you... do you miss them?"

Professor is quiet for some time longer before responding.

"We weren't close. In truth, we were barely acquaintances with Justin, and even less so with Glickmann. That said, neither of them were bad people from what I've known of them, and they most certainly did not deserve to end up like this." He clicks his tongue. "I'd like to think that they aren't haunting whatever is left of the building, but I have no desire to test my luck by returning there. Neither should you, for that matter."

"Right." The person sounds completely unconvinced but trying to pretend that they are. Professor mutters something under his nose which the recording fails to fully pick up. "But if they were haunting the building, what would've you said to them? Theoretically, of course."

"This is why I don't like lawyers, you lot really don't fear the inconsiderate questions. Although one would think that you also wouldn't believe in ghosts..." He thinks about the question for a moment. "I suppose I would say that I'm sorry about what happened to them. But perhaps it's a consolation to their spirits that they are famous now - in dubious circles of conspiracy theorists and hobbyist ghostbusters, but nevertheless famous."

Narcissus starts saying something else, but a coughing fit interrupts him. It passes quick, but seems rather unpleasant even just by sound.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes, yes, just allergies. Anyway, you wanted the details of the story, not the sentiments, correct?"

"As much as you're comfortable sharing. Perhaps you can start from your arrival at the college?.."