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Sep. 11th, 2005 06:58 pmMonday, October 1st, 2002
Columbia University
Basement
"... and that's what we found," Ray finished, sliding the last of the printouts across the table for Peter's edification. "Two hours of searching on that rooftop and around the sarcophagus complex and we were only able to gather up a handful of engravings, but every last one of them cited a magically significant source formula, whether for summoning, binding, or warding- every single one. Combine that with the fact that both Egon's and my PKE meters try to jump out of our hands and drag themselves away by their arms whenever we get anywhere near the building, and-"
"Ray?" Peter interrupted.
"Yes, Peter?"
"Don't bother finishing that sentence. It's not gonna help."
Ray's face fell. "But Peter-"
He drew a hand across the space in front of him, palm out. "Forget it. No way. This is nuts and I'm not going to be part of it."
"Peter, this is an unprecedented situation in the field of parapsychology!"
"This is an architect who went booga-booga in the head from shell shock and developed a major fixation on the first chapter of his history book."
"It's the real thing, Peter-"
"No, that spook in the library was the real thing. That, I'm willing to deal with. This is some guy who didn't have the stomach for yet another monument to Art Deco, and overdid his response." Peter gathered up Ray's papers, tapped them against the table to even them out, and handed them back. "I'm in this business for the stuff I can actually work with. Prove the existence of psychic powers and I get a big fat prize from the Amazing Randi and from a bunch of guys in Sweden. What's in this building business but 'oh hey, there was an architect and he was bugnuts'?"
Ray stared at him. "I've already told you, Peter, the building represents a massive-"
He waved a hand. "Massive danger, risk of dimensional cross-rip, whatever. Call me crazy, but I'm gonna need a little more evidence than that before I go running off to convince a landlord on CPW that his building needs evacuating and major renovations."
"Major demolitions, more like," Ray muttered. "There's no way to make this place safe."
"Oh, that's going to make you even more popular!" Peter shook his head. "Ray, have you listened to yourself lately? The past few days you've been almost as obsessed as this Shandor guy apparently was."
"This is important, Venkman," Ray snapped back. A little surprised with his own ferocity, he added, "It's been going on for a good couple of weeks. I really think we're nearing the breaking point."
"Yeah, about that... are you sure about this Barrett woman? Is she really a reliable source?"
Ray stared at him, an extremely peculiar expression on his face.
"What? What'd I say?"
The other man just shook his head. "if you had any idea..."
Peter pointed at him. "Ah? Do I detect a measure of personal sentiment in the scientist's decision?"
"No!" Ray exclaimed. "It's not like that at all!"
He smiled. "Sure it's not," he said. "Don't worry, Ray. I won't tell Spengler. But you might as well give up on the whole thing. Tell your girlfriend-"
"She is not my girlfriend!"
"-Tell her you did your research, you're going to keep trying, and in a week or two tell her you've hit a wall. You're a smart guy. You'll come up with something... now, if you'll excuse me, I have to see a man about a horse."
Ray stared at Peter's retreating form, clutching his papers in abject frustration. This was bad. He'd counted on getting Peter's support for this. They were completely unprepared for anything major that might erupt from the building's activity. At the very least, he would need Peter's advice and strategic thinking if they were going to proceed with any kind of success- and he'd just lost his chance at that.
He rubbed at his temples with his forefingers, trying to think. He could still come up with the money for packs and other equipment as necessary, he knew that. He'd found the deed to his family home in a lockbox in his Bronx apartment. He wouldn't have to spend any of it on a containment unit, so that was a small mercy, but... from here on out he had no idea how to proceed, unless Spengs had come up with something from the Sumerian section of the archaeology department's papers. And even then...
They were two scientists and one musician, against an oncoming tide of overpowered, angry divinity. They had no chance at all.
With a sigh, he rested his forehead against the desk.
Milliways was completely out of his reach, despite all his efforts. Maybe if he could just build a philotic portal with the- no, he didn't have the holocomputer with the plans in it and it had taken six months' experimentation in a world with much easier physics-
Somewhere down the hall, a graduate student looked up, eyes wide. "What was that?" she asked her companion.
He shook his head slowly. "Sounded like the sound of ultimate suffering to me."
"No, I think ultimate suffering is a little lower pitched..."
Columbia University
Basement
"... and that's what we found," Ray finished, sliding the last of the printouts across the table for Peter's edification. "Two hours of searching on that rooftop and around the sarcophagus complex and we were only able to gather up a handful of engravings, but every last one of them cited a magically significant source formula, whether for summoning, binding, or warding- every single one. Combine that with the fact that both Egon's and my PKE meters try to jump out of our hands and drag themselves away by their arms whenever we get anywhere near the building, and-"
"Ray?" Peter interrupted.
"Yes, Peter?"
"Don't bother finishing that sentence. It's not gonna help."
Ray's face fell. "But Peter-"
He drew a hand across the space in front of him, palm out. "Forget it. No way. This is nuts and I'm not going to be part of it."
"Peter, this is an unprecedented situation in the field of parapsychology!"
"This is an architect who went booga-booga in the head from shell shock and developed a major fixation on the first chapter of his history book."
"It's the real thing, Peter-"
"No, that spook in the library was the real thing. That, I'm willing to deal with. This is some guy who didn't have the stomach for yet another monument to Art Deco, and overdid his response." Peter gathered up Ray's papers, tapped them against the table to even them out, and handed them back. "I'm in this business for the stuff I can actually work with. Prove the existence of psychic powers and I get a big fat prize from the Amazing Randi and from a bunch of guys in Sweden. What's in this building business but 'oh hey, there was an architect and he was bugnuts'?"
Ray stared at him. "I've already told you, Peter, the building represents a massive-"
He waved a hand. "Massive danger, risk of dimensional cross-rip, whatever. Call me crazy, but I'm gonna need a little more evidence than that before I go running off to convince a landlord on CPW that his building needs evacuating and major renovations."
"Major demolitions, more like," Ray muttered. "There's no way to make this place safe."
"Oh, that's going to make you even more popular!" Peter shook his head. "Ray, have you listened to yourself lately? The past few days you've been almost as obsessed as this Shandor guy apparently was."
"This is important, Venkman," Ray snapped back. A little surprised with his own ferocity, he added, "It's been going on for a good couple of weeks. I really think we're nearing the breaking point."
"Yeah, about that... are you sure about this Barrett woman? Is she really a reliable source?"
Ray stared at him, an extremely peculiar expression on his face.
"What? What'd I say?"
The other man just shook his head. "if you had any idea..."
Peter pointed at him. "Ah? Do I detect a measure of personal sentiment in the scientist's decision?"
"No!" Ray exclaimed. "It's not like that at all!"
He smiled. "Sure it's not," he said. "Don't worry, Ray. I won't tell Spengler. But you might as well give up on the whole thing. Tell your girlfriend-"
"She is not my girlfriend!"
"-Tell her you did your research, you're going to keep trying, and in a week or two tell her you've hit a wall. You're a smart guy. You'll come up with something... now, if you'll excuse me, I have to see a man about a horse."
Ray stared at Peter's retreating form, clutching his papers in abject frustration. This was bad. He'd counted on getting Peter's support for this. They were completely unprepared for anything major that might erupt from the building's activity. At the very least, he would need Peter's advice and strategic thinking if they were going to proceed with any kind of success- and he'd just lost his chance at that.
He rubbed at his temples with his forefingers, trying to think. He could still come up with the money for packs and other equipment as necessary, he knew that. He'd found the deed to his family home in a lockbox in his Bronx apartment. He wouldn't have to spend any of it on a containment unit, so that was a small mercy, but... from here on out he had no idea how to proceed, unless Spengs had come up with something from the Sumerian section of the archaeology department's papers. And even then...
They were two scientists and one musician, against an oncoming tide of overpowered, angry divinity. They had no chance at all.
With a sigh, he rested his forehead against the desk.
Milliways was completely out of his reach, despite all his efforts. Maybe if he could just build a philotic portal with the- no, he didn't have the holocomputer with the plans in it and it had taken six months' experimentation in a world with much easier physics-
Somewhere down the hall, a graduate student looked up, eyes wide. "What was that?" she asked her companion.
He shook his head slowly. "Sounded like the sound of ultimate suffering to me."
"No, I think ultimate suffering is a little lower pitched..."
