The Voices by F. R. Tallis

ago and he did exactly the same thing.’
    ‘I wonder why he chooses to bother you.’
    ‘Perhaps I look gullible.’ Simon pushed a pint glass in Christopher’s direction. ‘So, this new piece of yours. I’m intrigued.’
    Christopher took a deep breath. ‘You’re going to have to keep an open mind, OK? Because what I’m about to tell you will sound, at least initially, very peculiar indeed; however, I’m convinced there’s something in it – well, more than that really.’ Simon’s brow furrowed as Christopher continued. ‘Have you ever heard of electronic voices before? Or voice phenomena?’
    ‘Electronic voices? No, I haven’t.’
    ‘The name Konstantin Raudive?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Right.’ Christopher proceeded to give an account of how voices had, quite inexplicably, begun to appear on his recordings, and how he had subsequently learned that the phenomenon was recognized by scientists. He braced himself before saying, ‘It’s controversial, of course. But there seems to be an emerging consensus that these voices are spirit communications.’ He was conscious throughout that he was in danger of sounding a little unhinged, andmade every effort to maintain a level delivery in spite of his excitement. He told his friend about the drawling, aristocratic voice that had called his daughter’s name, and then explained how he intended to incorporate these ‘communications’ into an original work. As he spoke, he was encouraged by Simon’s expression, which gradually changed from sceptical dismissal to rapt interest. When Christopher had finished, Simon leaned forward and said, ‘That is . . . fascinating. But how can you be sure that these voices don’t have a terrestrial origin?’
    ‘They don’t sound like any broadcast you’ve ever heard. They speak in many different languages. And the voice that called out to Faye is surely pretty convincing, isn’t it?’
    ‘Yes. That is very odd.’ Simon drained his glass and looked across the pub. He seemed distracted for a moment but when he fixed his eyes on Christopher again, he repeated the word ‘Fascinating.’
    ‘Look,’ said Christopher. ‘Why don’t you come and hear what I’ve done.’
    ‘Now?’
    ‘Yes. I’ve only got a few minutes of material. It won’t take long.’
    Simon shrugged. ‘All right. Why not?’
    They went to the car park, got into Simon’s Austin 1800and drove the very short distance along East Heath Road and down into the Vale of Health.
    Christopher unlocked the front door of the house and ushered Simon into the hallway.
    ‘I’m home,’ Christopher called.
    Laura stepped out of the drawing room. She was wearing a baggy green T-shirt and a pair of flared slacks. Under her arm was a paperback book with a creased spine.
    ‘Simon,’ she said, surprised.
    He advanced and gave her a peck on both cheeks. ‘You’ve had your hair cut.’
    ‘Yes,’ Laura replied. ‘Chris doesn’t like it.’
    ‘I didn’t say that,’ Christopher protested. ‘I’ve never said that.’
    ‘But you don’t,’ Laura said. ‘Not really.’
    Christopher looked at Simon and sighed. ‘I can’t win.’
    ‘It looks rather good,’ said Simon. He glanced at Christopher. ‘No? I like it. Honestly, I do.’
    ‘Thank you,’ said Laura, inclining her head.
    ‘We’re going upstairs,’ said Christopher.
    ‘OK,’ said Laura. ‘Do you want some tea, coffee?’
    ‘Not for me,’ Christopher replied.
    ‘Nor me,’ said Simon. ‘But thanks for offering.’
    The two men ascended the stairs and entered thestudio. Christopher switched on a lamp and offered his friend a seat. Around the horseshoe arrangement of electrical equipment an array of dials emitted a soft yellow glow. Christopher approached a large, centrally positioned tape recorder and pressed the ‘play’ button. ‘Listen to this.’ The sound of two oscillators floated out of the silence. They were so widely separated that the listener could not escape an impression of a void