TUNERS : II

Copyright 2011 by Berj N. Ensanian / KI3U


[ A sensation of sounds is the first awareness of perception. The perceiving mind is beginning to hear 
something, quite faint, but gradually becoming louder. The sounds integrate just as the mind reaches 
awareness that it is a center of consciousness in the act of hearing sounds - it is hearing a rushing noise, 
varying in amplitude and punctuated by semi-continuous static crashes. The sounds slowly grow in loudness and 
within the noise is now heard a faint signal, its strength fading in and out; it sounds like Morse code 
coming in from someplace very far away.

A dim ray of light now breaks the total darkness and joins the sounds just as the mind comprehends it is a 
personality, a personality perceiving a weak and very distant radiotelegraph transmission coming through 
stormy radio propagation conditions. Slowly the light grows and spreads, and the mind, though fully aware now 
that it is a personality, but not yet concerned with who its identity is, begins to faintly perceive before 
it a scene: a little distance before it, is the back of a well-dressed middle aged man, seated at a table in 
a dimly lit plain room of bygone appearance. The man is wearing headphones and appears to be writing, 
evidently copying down the Morse signal.

The visual perception now begins to glide toward the man at the table. The sounds are becoming clearer, and 
the perceiver now comprehends that the far-away Morse sender must be aware of the stormy conditions his 
signal is fighting, for he is transmitting measuredly slow in accordance. As the perceiver's visual 
perception glides up and over the man's right shoulder it notices on the wall behind the table a calendar 
indicating October, 1925.

On the table now appears the radio apparatus consistent with the date of the calendar, and the perceiver is 
drawn in toward the eerie muted orange-red glow of the radio's vacuum tubes, and now into the glow, now seen to be feebly pulsing in resonance with the Morse signal and static, and simultaneously the sounds reach a crescendo, and the perceiver has his first integrated thoughts:

It is THE signal! IT IS THE SIGNAL ALL ETERNITY HAS WAITED FOR!!! THE MESSAGE HAS COME! THE SIGNAL IS COMING 
THROUGH! THE SIGNAL IS FINALLY COMING THROUGH!

The perceiver is now agitated trying to understand the Morse message, feeling powerless to decode it, even as 
the signal fades in to its greatest loudness competing against the static crashes. In desperation the visual 
perception turns toward the radioman at the operating table, just as the Morse transmission ends. The 
perceiver sees a telegraph key on the table and the man's right hand reaching over to it and now grasping it, 
and begin operating the key, slowly. The transmitter's Morse signal comes as steady strong pure tones.

Aching to understand the exchange of messages, the visual perception glides up from the telegraph key to the 
face of the radio operator: he is familiar, he is ...., he is ...., he is definitely familiar!

The visual perception glides away from the familiar man's face back down to the operating table, and sees a  
sheet of paper with writing on it - it is THE MESSAGE which the radioman copied. The visual perception glides 
in toward the paper and it's writing comes into focus. It is: the Voynich script. ]


Krohnchahck! My God it's Krohnchahck! It's Krohnchahck!

[ Roger Tandiman sits up fully awake as the intense lucid dream releases him. Helen, his wife, is startled 
awake from her sleep by her husband's sudden rousing, and turns on the lamp on her nighttable. ]


Roger what is it? What is it honey, did you have a dream? Honey - you're sweating! Are you ok?

I, I, yeah yeah I'm ok. Just had the strangest dream!

What did you dream?

I, I .... oh it's so strange Helen. Do you remember last October Gary and I went to Williamsport to see a guy 
named Krohnchahck who Jake Dickins told us about? We went to see him about the Harrisburg intrusions mystery. 
And seeing Krohnchahck was strange because Gary and I could only remember talking about the Voynich 
Manuscript with Krohnchahck. Do you remember that?

Yes. Didn't Krohnchahck say something like you should study that Voynich Manuscript?

Yeah. Well this dream, and I'm not even sure it was just a dream - it's like by the time it ended it was as 
real as anything, like I was there.

Where honey? You were where? Tell me.

The dream started with my perceiving Morse code coming in through static. Then I started seeing a dimly lit 
radio room and like I was floating behind the radio operator. And things became clearer and louder and I saw, 
I clearly saw a calendar on the wall - it was showing the date as October, 1925. And the radio room setup, 
everything looked like it was in the 1920's. And then I got a look at the guy's face, the radioman's face - 
Helen it was Krohnchahck! It was absolutely Krohnchahck. But he was only about 35 years old! In 1925! And 
then he started answering the other Morse guy, and I saw what Krohnchahck had copied down, the Morse 
transmission, and it was Voynich script! And then, and then, .... and then, Helen I swear to God I don't know 
why, but I experienced this totally overwhelming realization that the Morse transmission Krohnchahck had 
copied down in Voynich was the ultimate message - the message all eternity has been waiting for, and now it 
has finally come through! I ....

Wow Roger! You're still sweating - it must have been something to get you so excited.

Helen .... it felt like I was really, really there - there in 1925!

What do you think it means?

I, I don't know. .... I gotta think about it. Maybe I'll discuss it with Gary when I get to the office.

I'll get you some milk and crackers, ok?

Yeah baby good, that would be good.

[ Helen gets up to go downstairs to their kitchen. While waiting for her to return Roger concentrates on 
trying to understand his dream and recall every detail in it. Suddenly Roger hears a crash in the kitchen. 
Racing down there he sees Helen in the kitchen, standing, her face white as a ghost, with the tray of spilled 
milk and crackers on the floor before her. ]

Honey what is it - are you alright? Honey what happened?

[ Helen silently points to the kitchen wall. Where their usual calendar hangs, is a calendar, displaying 
October, 1925. The picture for October is of a farm kitchen table, with a carved pumpkin, a glass of milk, 
and a plate of crackers on it. ]

Oh God!

Roger I don't know what's going on, but you better talk with Gary about this! I'm worried - is any of this 
dangerous? The kids - we have to think about the kids.

No, no, don't be worried - I don't get the feeling of anything particularly dangerous in this. I'll talk with 
Gary first thing. Don't worry.


[ Arriving in his office later that morning Roger picks up his phone to call his partner Gary, but before he 
can even dial Gary comes in, with a bewildered look on his face, and holding in his hand a calendar showing 
October, 1925. He is followed by their colleague Jake Dickins, also bewildered, and also holding an identical 
calendar showing October, 1925. ]

Let me guess - you guys had a strange and very realistic dream where you saw Krohnchahck as a radio operator 
in October, 1925, and he looked to be about 35 years old. And the Morse copy was in Voynichese. And after you 
woke up you found a 1925 calendar on your wall, turned to October.

Yeah that's it Roger, but there was another factor.

Roger, Gary and I already talked about this this morning - we both agree that we felt like we were actually 
there in 1925. And most strange of all, during the dream we had this overpowering feeling that the Voynich 
Morse code message was the one message all eternity has been waiting for!

Yah, me too. .... So, are we all crazy, or what?

I told you guys before you went to see him that Krohnchahck is no ordinary person. This, this dream reminds 
me of what it was like back in '72 with Krohnchahck - there were times when, when, ok this is going to really 
sound crazy, but there were times when I felt like I was just a machine or a robot which Krohnchahck had 
created. It freaked me out. It freaked everybody out. We had to get away from him.

Ok, Ok, lets for the moment say that Krohnchahck is an extremely rare example of a super-telepath who can, at 
will, implant realistic dream experiences in the minds of people who are focused on him to one extent or 
another. And we know he's very involved with the Voynich Manuscript. So, maybe he's just recruiting us to 
join his hobby.

This 1925 calendar here is no dream. And Jake's calendar there isn't either. And your calendar there looks 
identical to ours. How did these calendars get into our homes? No alarams went off, our dogs didn't bark, and 
we heard nothing, but here they are. Look pretty authentic too.

Hmm. Yeah, I suppose we'd have to add super-psychokinetic powers at will to Krohnchahck's talents. I think 
maybe we ought to take these calendars to the lab and see what they come up with.

I think Krohnchahck is inviting us to see him.

What? Actively inviting us?

Yes.

How do you come to that?

Because it was like that sometimes back in '72. Even when I was away from him, there were a couple of times 
when something odd would happen and I knew he was inviting me to see him. And it was strange because I didn't 
have to actually go to his place to see him. Just when I had decided that Ok I'll briefly look in on him and 
just say hello and stay for just a few minutes, I'd run into him at a coffee shop or something. And we'd chat 
a bit, and that would be it. I think this is similar - we're being invited to see Krohnchahck. We don't have 
to see him as far as I'm concerned. It's up to us.

What do you think he was getting out of you during those meetings he invited you to? What did he want?

Nothing I could ever figure out, beyond maybe he was just checking in with a friend. But at least once, like 
that time at the coffee shop, it saved my life to see him. We got chatting and I forgot the time, and wound 
up I was late for work at my part-time job as a sales clerk. When I finally got to the store I found out that 
a wrecking ball, they were demolishing a building across the street, had accidentally crashed into our store, 
right at my work station.

Wow! Maybe we better go drop in on Krohnchahck. Gary?

Yeah I'm in.

Me too. I've known him since we were students. Maybe that will help.

Ok, but we'll need an angle - how do we write this up? A follow-up in the Harrisburg deal?

No, lets go see him on our own time. Otherwise we may be writing reports which will cause us problems. If 
anyone gets wind we went to see him you can always say I decided to drop in on my old friend and you guys 
just decided to come along.

Yeah I agree. Roger?

Yeah good idea. What about the calendars? What do we tell the Lab? Or do we hold off on that too?

Plinowin down at the Lab owes me a few favors - I'll tell him I got them collecting antique stuff and I just 
want to know if they're fakes. Being a favor to me he'll keep it quiet and there won't be any paper.

Good Jake, do it.


[ Saturday morning, January 15, 2000 : the three FBI agents, Roger Tandiman, Gary Whiteson, and Jake Dickins, 
are travelling together in Jake's car on their way to Williamsport, Pennsylvania, in an unofficial capacity 
and private arrangement between them, to drop in un-announced on Thor Krohnchahck. The mobile phone rings, 
and Jake, who is driving, asks Gary in the front passenger seat to answer it for him. ]

Whiteson here, answering for Dickins.

Hey Gary, this is Chuck Plinowin. What you doin' with Jake's horn? He there?

Oh hey Chuck. Yeah he's here, we're on the road, ah, doing some antiquing. Here he is .....

Yeah Chuck, what's up? You do the calendars? Did I get the real thing?

Hi Jake. Yeah you sure did. Best I can tell you got yourself three genuine 1925 calendars in absolutely mint 
condition. I mean these things are like they were hermetically sealed or something for seventy-five years. 
They were printed in Philly in 1924 by an outfit long out of business. As a matter of fact so far as I can 
find out, that printshop existed only for a few months in 1924 and just printed calendars. It was called the 
Crownjug Calendar Company. No records I can find on anything they came from, or what became of them after the 
1924 existence. No owner names, nothing, not yet anyway.

What was that name again?

Crownjug. Crownjug Calendar Company.

What's the exact spelling of Crownjug?

It's C R O W N J U G, Crownjug. Ring a bell?

Ah, no, not really. But sounds like a rare find. I'll look for more of their stuff. Sure appreciate this 
Chuck - I owe you one.

No problem, and I still owe you too. Sure are pretty calendars. Expensive for sure. I like the October 
picture with the radio room.

The what? The radio room you say?

Yeah. That's the picture for October. That photograph has a real eerie feel to it - like it really makes you 
feel you're right there in the picture in that radio station. Real nice.

Say Chuck, can you do me a favor and FAX me a high-resolution print of that October picture? I should be near 
a place with FAX in an hour or so. Can you do that if I call you back then?

Yeah sure, no problem, I'm here all day.

Ok great, thanks. I'll call you later. Bye.

Bye.

Crownjug! Krohnchahck. Crownjug. This is bizarre!

What's with the October picture in the calendar?

Yeah, and something about a radio room? What gives Jake?

Man this is bizarre. Ok, first of all, the calendars are genuine, printed by the Crownjug Calendar Company in 
Philly, which existed only briefly in 1924, and Chuck has no other info on Crownjug. C R O W N J U G ! Sounds 
awful close to Krohnchahck! Then Chuck says he really likes the October picture, which is of a radio room. He 
says the photograph is eerie - makes you feel like you're really there in that radio room.

Wow! Well! All three calendars showed a farm kitchen scene with a carved pumpkin and milk and crackers for 
October, last I saw them in my office!

They showed that kitchen scene when I took them to Chuck at the Lab. When I gave him the calendars they were 
all open to October. We didn't discuss that specifically, but I swear I handed him the calendars with October 
showing, and it showed that farm kitchen scene!

Ok, well as soon as we reach Williamsport we'll go straight to an office supplies place and you get Chuck to 
FAX us that October photo. Maybe he was looking at some other month. But we went through that calendar and I 
don't remember any radio room picture.

Guys lets get some coffee.

Yeah good idea. Might as well gas up too.

[ They soon pull into a Qwik And Go Convenience station. While Jake is gasing up, and Roger goes to the 
toilet, Gary gets three coffees to go and steps up to the counter to pay for them. ]

Three medium coffees, that will be two dollars and 13 cents sir.

Two, and ten, thirteen.

Oh, you've won a T-shirt sir!

A T-shirt?

Yes, see here on your receipt - it's a random promotion we do. Your receipt says you've won a T-shirt. What 
size would you like?

What's the catch?

None at all sir. I just give you the T-shirt and that's it.

Oh. Ok, well a large will be fine.

[ Bemused, Gary receives his T-shirt, folded, and heads back to the car, passing Jake on his way to pay cash 
for the gasoline. ]

I won a T-shirt - how about that?

Looks like a good-quality shirt Gary.

[ Jake and Roger return to the car and the three agents, with Gary sitting in the rear, get under way again. 
]

Oh no!!!

What is it Gary?

[ Without saying a word Gary hands Roger in the front passenger seat the T-shirt. Jake screeches the car to 
halt on the shoulder. The three men look at the unfolded shirt in utter disbelief. Roger is the first to 
speak. ]

Ok, now I am seeing on this T-shirt a print of a farm kitchen table, with a carved pumpkin and glass of milk 
and a plate of crackers! I am seeing what I saw on that calendar! What do you guys see?

I see it too Roger.

And me too.

There any indication of who printed the shirt?

Nothing I can see. Just an ordinary well-made shirt you can buy anywhere and silk-screen whatever you want on 
it.

Gary what about the receipt - you said you won the shirt because the receipt said so?

Yeah, .... here it is ... looks ordinary enough.

Is Krohnchahck playing with us?

Maybe. We can check into this Qwik And Go promotion later. Lets get to Williamsport and a FAX machine.

[ The men proceed to Williamsport. Arriving there, they immediately go to the first office supplies store 
they come upon, and go inside where Jake calls Chuck and arranges to have the photograph of the October 
picture of the 1925 calendar FAX'd to them. As the sales clerk hands the FAX copy to Roger the men receive 
yet another surprise: the FAX is a closeup of a table, evidently a radio operating table, showing a sheet of 
paper next to a telegraph key and pencil. The paper is full of handwritten Voynich script. Keeping their 
composure the men pay for the FAX and return to their car with it. ]

Well that's a picture of a radio room alright, but I was expecting a full view. Did Chuck say it was a 
closeup?

No, and I got the distinct impression from him that he was describing a full view of a radio room.

Anybody think of a connection between this Voynich radio copy, and pumpkins and milk and crackers?

I can't, not yet anyway.

October seems to be a common theme in all this.

True.

I'm starting to wonder if we're getting in over our heads here. Helen was genuinely frightened the other 
night when she saw the calendar on our kitchen wall. I, I don't know what to think now ...

caroline was a bit un-nerved too when she found the calendar we got, but she said she was still sure 
Krohnchahck would never hurt us.

How could she be sure of that?

Because she met him once back in '73. We were dating then. I told her all about him. And then we ran into him 
one afternoon for a few minutes. Afterward she told me she had a strong feeling that he would never harm us.

So we go see him now?

Yeah lets get to it. Ok, Roger you got the particulars - tell me where to drive.

[ Roger takes out his private notebook and turns to a page whereon he had copied information about Thor 
Krohnchahck from the computer on his office. ]

Alright, Krohnchahck lives near the top of Primrose Lane ... up there over there on that hill.

Looks like the fancy part of town.

It is. For sure. On our salaries we couldn't afford to rent even a shack in this neighborhood.

Well the file on Krohnchahck does say he is semi-retired after making a fortune in the dot-com world, doesn't 
it?

Yeah. And so far as we know he's been steadily giving his money away to charitable causes ever since. 
Evidently he's very discreet about it. Does things like drive around the country looking for situations where 
he can be an angel and solve a dire problem by writing checks and so on. There was a poor little congregation 
in Oklahoma which had its little church wiped out by a Tornado. He just showed up out of the blue and gave 
them the money to rebuild. They didn't have any insurance. He made them promise to not publicize him as their 
benefactor.

[ The men reach the top of Primrose Lane, where a magnificent mansion is set by itself in at least ten acres 
of semi-forested and well-maintained land. Just as they reach it, the driveway's entrance gates swing open, 
as if they are being expected. They drive through and continue to the front of the house. They park and get 
out and look around. Except for birds, it is pleasantly silent about, and there is no sign of Krohnchahck or 
anyone else. ]

I wonder if he's in. Lets knock.

[ As Jake is about to grasp the door knocker, the door opens and an older attractive woman, dressed in 
cheerful colors, and with an intelligent and neutral expression emerges. ]

Yes, may I help you gentlemen?

Good morning Madam. I am Jake Dickins, and these are my colleagues Roger Tandiman and Gary Whiteson. I am an 
old friend of Thor Krohnchahck, and as I was in Williamsport today on business I thought I'd drop in on Thor. 
It's been quite a while. Is he in?

More than a quarter century actually since you last saw Thor. Yes he's in. Please come in and make yourself 
comfortable and I'll go tell him you are here. He is meeting with my husband, but they should be done pretty 
soon.

[ The woman leads the three agents into the mansion's spacious reception room, and then disappears through a 
hallway to the left. The men look around. What they see reflects a tasteful and understated environment of 
great wealth. The room is dominated by a beautiful marble carving atop a base with TRITHEMIUS carved in it, 
all resting on twin marble pillars - it depicts two winged angels, each about one meter tall, with one angel 
handing the other angel a sheet of something with writing on it. The men go over to examine it, and are not 
very surprised to find that the writing is in Voynich script. ]

Roger, you got the FAX with you? Lets check it against this.

Yeah, here, ..... the same!

Say guys, didn't you get the feeling that the lady who just let us in is familiar?

[ Jake and Roger turn to Gary, but remain silent for a moment as they think over Gary's question. ]

Not sure. Wonder how she knew it's been over twenty-five years since I last saw Thor.

Maybe a bit familiar, yeah maybe, but it's real vague. But if Jake can't place her, then how could I? You 
think you might have seen her before?

Well, I don't know really. It's kinda like she reminds me of someone from an old movie. But it's just vague 
at the moment.

[ Several minutes pass, and then from down the hallway the men hear nearing voices in conversation. Evidently 
Thor's guests are about to depart from another exit in the mansion.]

Thanks for letting them in Mercy. I'll see you guys tomorrow then.

[ A door is heard to open and shut. Then footsteps come down the hall toward the reception room. The three 
agents rise facing the hallway, expecting Thor Krohnchahck to emerge any second. ]

Thor? Thor are you there?

I'm here Dicky. Good to see you ole boy!

[ The agents whip around to see Thor Krohnchahck, dressed in jeans and a well-worn blue sweater, standing 
across the room behind them, apparently having emerged from an opposite hallway. ]

Hi Thor. Good to see you. Strange acoustics in this room. I, I thought you were coming in from over here.

I did Dicky. Hello Roger. Hello Gary. Nice to have you all visit me. 

[ Thor comes over and in a friendly manner shakes their hands in turn. He then motions to a large couch and 
sits down, and readies his pipe for a smoke. ]

Have a seat boys. How's caroline Dicky?

Oh she's fine Thor. She's fine.

Good. Well fellas, tell me, how was your trip this morning?

[ The three men look at each other, unsure how to begin. Finally Roger speaks up. ]

Ah Mr. Krohnchahck .....

Call me Thor, Roger. You too Gary. After all we've known each other a long time now, haven't we?

[ Suddenly the three agents find themselves completely enveloped in whirling light, as a panoramic diorama 
plays itself out around them: they see the exact scenes which played themselves out, when the previous 
October Roger and Gary first visited Thor, the dream all three agents experienced, the calendars and Chuck 
Plinowin's involvement, the T-shirt and FAX episodes earlier in the morning. The men are completely stunned 
to realize they have apparently been experiencing multiple realities, and only now at this moment are 
comprehending the links between their several experiences. As the diorama winds down, Gary gasps and speaks. 
]

Thor - what is happening here?!! What are you doing to us?

Merely satisfying your curiosities Gary. You guys want to know. Well I'm letting you know. At least some 
things.

But, but, last time we saw you in October, just less than three months ago, you were a short-order cook 
living in a plain apartment in a lower-class neighborhood! And you didn't have the slightest interest in 
money. And that's what the bureau files on you had it. Now our bureau files have you as a rich guy living 
here and doing charitable deeds. And before this moment I was aware of only the current reality. Or what I 
think is the current reality! What is real here?

All of it Gary. Just recall our last conversation in October. I explained the simultaneous serial and 
parallel reality to you. I explained to you that TUNERS, like me, experience it all, while non-tuners like 
you guys experience only a shadow of the grand cosmos in a serial fashion. TUNERS tune into the reality they 
wish. Non-tuners cannot do that. But, like just now, a TUNER can show a non-tuner a greater portion of the 
reality he is immersed in and moving through. I showed it to you by simply tuning it in, resonating to the 
condition that you all would become aware of some things.

Are, are we, I mean we non-tuners, are we just playthings to you TUNERS?

No Roger, not to me anyway. For sure there are evil TUNERS who do play with the nons in a destructive 
fashion. But not me.

Well then what are we to you Thor? The exact relationship please?

Alright Jake, do you love your dog?

Yes. Of course. He's like a member of our family.

Ok. Well it's like that with me and you, and also Roger and Gary.

We're your pets?

Perhaps some would call it that Roger, but I prefer how Jake just put it - his dog is part of his family, his 
dog is a person-member of his family.

Back in October you called me Bob several times. Why did you do that?

Isn't it true Roger that on your very first date with Helen she accidentally called you Bob once?

God I had forgotten all about that!

And you were upset thinking she was thinking about another guy until she informed you that her brother's name 
is Bob.

Yeah I remember that now. Is, is there a further message in this? I mean you calling me Bob back in October?

Maybe. We'll see, stay tuned. By the way, neither you nor Gary seemed to have noticed that Gary also called 
you Bob last time.

[ Roger and Gary exchange glances, now recalling this little oddity. ]

Caroline once said to me that she once had a thought, that you were like an Olympian God among the mortals.

Yes Jake, she was pretty right on the mark there. Of course it's all a lot more complicated than even that, 
but for the present it serves nicely to diagram it like that.

But Thor, you weren't always a TUNER - you became a TUNER, somehow, I don't know how, during our seances back 
in '72. How can you have been a mere mortal like us, and suddenly become an Olympian?

Now you've asked a key question Jake, a key question for the reason of our gathering this time around. The 
answer is that I was always a TUNER. We have to get that straight first of all: an entity exists either as a 
TUNER or a non-tuner, and the two kinds are not inter-transformable. But, a TUNER has the ability, at will if 
they wish, to go to sleep for a while, so to speak, and experience reality like non-tuners do.

Sleep? You were asleep before the seances? You mean something like out of Gurdjieff's teachings?

Yes quite similar. Maybe the best way to make this clear, and so you can understand what happened to me in 
'72, and by the way also earlier in 1925, is to tell you the story of Zoryan and Abydya. It's like a fairy 
tale, although of course like all fairy tales it actually played out, and still plays out, here and there in 
space-time. You guys want to hear the story of Zoryan and Abydya ?

Yeah sure.

Of course.

I'm listening.

Alright then, the story of Zoryan and Abydya. Once upon a time, long, long ago, in a medieval setting, the 
king had been alarmed by reports of a strange ongoing event in his kingdom, not far from the tiny village of 
Saint Yehliah. The reports informed him that a hitherto completely unknown ship, apparently made of shiny 
metal, about the size of a spacious house, and shaped somewhat like an upside down saucer, had descended 
silently from the sky and landed. And from this ship there had emerged some men and women, rather ordinary in 
appearance, except that they were dressed in tight-fitting shiny costumes which too had the appearance of 
shiny metal, but were quite flexible as ordinary clothes are. And these several people were leisurely 
gathering naturally growing herbs and vegetation and placing them in transparent bags which they then loaded 
aboard their ship.

This activity was continuing, at a leisurely pace, ocassionally even at night when the ship's crew employed 
powerful lights of an unknown kind. The inhabitants of Saint Yehliah were in complete shock, but a few 
courageous among them kept a vigil on the happenings. The king was informed that these alien intruders had 
evidently become well aware of the villagers watching them, but remained completely unconcerned about them 
and were simply ignoring them. The nearest representative of his majesty at the scene, a tax collector, had 
fallen ill when told of the news, and was in bed unable to go investigate.

The king immediately dispatched a trusted general with a company of heavily armed soldiers to confront the 
scene. Very soon word came back that the earlier reports were quite accurate, but that attempts to move in 
closer to the ship and challenge the intruders had been stymied by some kind of invisible wall around the 
ship, extending about twice the ship's diameter all around it. And again the intruders were just ignoring the 
king's men and continuing with their collecting.

Finally the king, who in his youth had been the bravest of military commanders, decided to go to Saint 
Yehliah and investigate this breach of his authority himself.

Now it happened that the king had one lovely daughter, Abydya. This girl was reknowned for being the best 
educated woman in all the land, surpassing in brilliance and knowledge even most of the kingdom's best 
scholars. So formidable were Abydya's intellectual powers that even despite her irresistable charms and 
beauty there was a growing problem of finding a suitable husband for her: even her best suitors left her un-
impressed.

Abydya insisted she accompany her father to the strange ship. The king, naturally fearing for his daughter's 
safety, was unable to rule against her insistence, especially when she pointed out that this strange event 
obviously called for more than just military power, it called for great intellectual power.

And so with many attendants and more soldiers, Abydya and her father travelled to Saint Yehliah to see for 
themselves what was happening, and what should be done about it.

When they reached the scene they found it was just as they had been informed. Abydya and her father 
approached as close as the invisible wall would permit them, and the king attempted to gain the attention of 
the intruders. But they ignored him. This being ignored could soon cause the king irreparable embarrassment, 
and Abydya knew it. Finally she stopped her father from further attempts to gain the attention of the 
intruders, and said she had an idea she wanted to try. The king agreed to let her proceed.

Abydya retrieved two of her mirrors from her coach. Then she held them out in such positions that one mirror 
captured the sun's rays and delivered these to the second mirror. And this second mirror she aimed right at 
the head of the one alien who seemed to her to be the commander of the invaders.

Abydya's strategy worked. The alien commander stopped his work, turned to face the king and his daughter, and 
spoke to them, perfectly in their native language. His tone was one of impatience. He simply said "Can't you 
see we are busy? Go away."

The King, in a tone of irritated authority replied: "This is my kingdom. Who are you to dare invade my domain 
and disrespect me?"

The commander replied: "I am Pataron, the commander of this ship and its crew. We come from a world which is 
located in the sky where your astronomers say the Great Archer treads. My civilization has come here for tens 
of thousands of years gathering herbs. We are not interested in your political arrangements. When we are done 
with our work we will depart. Now go and do not bother us. "

The king became incensed at this brazen disrespect, and he grabbed the mirrors from Abydya's hands and shone 
the sun's light directly into Pataron's eyes. This infuriated Pataron greatly. He raised his right arm and 
swung it in an arc toward the king, and the invisible shield expanded against the king and hurled him 
backwards and to the ground.

Abydya rushed to her father and determined he was shaken but alright. But now she was becoming furious. She 
turned to Pataron and spoke in her loudest voice: "Pataron, you are coward! Moreover you are quite obviously 
of the commonest blood, for if you had even a drop of noble blood in your veins you would observe at least 
the minimum of diplomacy. But above all you are a coward, flaunting your superior power like an immature and 
dim-witted giant."

Pataron's anger grew, and he menacingly shouted back at Abydya: "Silence! Go away!"

Abydya instead stepped forward and practically screamed at him: "Come here you unrefined boor and show the 
king some respect! Do it!"

Pataron's face grew red with anger and he raised his arm to deliver a blow from the invisible shield at 
Abydya, but just then came from the ship's opened hatch a loud and urgent voice: "Wait!"

All eyes turned to the ship's hatch as a young man slowly emerged. He was plain in appearance, not at all 
handsome, and evidently slightly crippled as he supported himself with a short cane as he walked. As he came 
down from the ship to the ground and made his way toward Pataron, he spoke: "Wait father. She is pure. There 
is not the slightest ill will in her being."

Well this was Zoryan, Pataron's youngest son. Zoryan was, back home among all the inhabitants of his world, 
the most special of persons, of which an example was born only once every hundred years or more - Zoryan was 
born with the gift of infallible perception of the true inner essence of beings. If any authorities found it 
impossible to rule on the essential nature, good or evil, of a person under trial, Zoryan could be summoned 
and consulted, and his determination was absolutely final. Zoryan was the current incarnation of "The Truth 
Bearer".

Abydya was intrigued. "I am Abydya, the king's only daughter. Who are you?" she asked.

Zoryan replied: "I am Zoryan, our commander's youngest son. If Pataron agrees to it, I shall come forward and 
present myself to your father the king."

"Please." replied Abydya.

Pataron now had his own potentially embarrassing situation to contend with - it would not look good to 
compromise The Truth Bearer, even if he was his own son. After a moment he motioned Zoryan to proceed. The 
tension in the atmosphere relaxed and transformed into one of excited anticipation. Zoryan slowly limped his 
way straight toward the king, glancing at no-one else, until the moment he was passing Abydya, when a force 
surprising to them both had them momentarily exchange direct eye-contact. When Zoryan reached the king and 
stood before him, Zoryan spoke calmly and respectfully: "Your Majesty, I am Zoryan, son of Pataron. I am 
familiar with the history of this place over many thousands of years, and I speak the truth when I say that 
your reign sees it among its most beautifully cared for periods. This land sings with joy under your reign.

The king replied: "Very well young Zoryan, thank you. I should be pleased to have you, your father, and your 
companions as my guests."

Zoryan replied: "We are deeply honored Your Majesty, but I regret to say that we are scheduled to leave for 
home this very afternoon without delay. With your gracious permission we will partake of your hospitality on 
a future expedition here. In the meantime may I leave Your Majesty with this little token of a gift from our 
home?". Zoryan reached into his top pocket and pulled out a small piece of blank parchment. Handing it to the 
king he said: "This parchment is a special letter which delivers its messages to the addressed across all 
space. Write upon it, and instantly, upon a similar parchment in my possession back home I shall see your 
words. And you will see my reply on this parchment."

As the king marvelled at the parchment and thought over what he had just heard, Abydya stepped forward and 
asked her father to see it. Holding it in her left hand, and turning around to conceal it from her father and 
Zoryan, she wrote invisibly with the finger of her right hand on the parchment:

What did you see?

And just at that very moment a white bird no-one had noticed before took to the air with great vigor.

Well, after some more courtesies, the ship with Pataron and Zoryan and the crew left for their home world. 
Abydya kept the magical parchment in her possession and later that night in her bedchamber she waited 
patiently for a message to appear upon it. And when the Moon rose and was just occluding the Pleiades, the 
message she was waiting for appeared upon the parchment. The words which appeared were:

I saw myself awakening from a deep long sleep, and gazing at my beloved wife who was also awakening from a 
deep long sleep.

And Abydya then knew it was so.

And so that's the story of Zoryan and Abydya, the short version anyway. You can well imagine that it has many 
chapters, actually an uncountable number of them.

Nice story Thor. I suppose the point is that Zoryan and Abydya are TUNERS who long before somewhere sometime 
went to sleep, I mean asleep in the reference frame of TUNERS, and then this medieval UFO encounter is what 
awakened them to be TUNERS once again?

Right Bob, er Roger. Yes, they had been husband and wife TUNERS, and they planned and executed a rest, a real 
rest from TUNING. They choreographed their re-awakening by pre-tuning it.

So TUNERS need a rest now and then?

Well Jake it's like this - you and Caroline a couple of years ago decided to rekindle your romance by 
revisiting your courting days and places, and you even got remarried. And it was wonderful, wasn't it?

Yeah sure was.

Well so that's what Zoryan and Abydya did. To re-invigorate their romance they de-tuned into mere mortals, 
mere mortals insofar as their consciousness, and staged an exciting UFO encounter theatrical in medieval 
times for their re-awakening.

And you staged your own awakening to be during our seances back in '72 and '73?

Basically yes. I pre-tuned one essential ingredient: a certain Voynich word to appear in automatic writing 
during a seance. The actual beginning of my re-awakening came when, soon after I started the automatic 
writing, my hand wrote that certain Voynich word. After that seance when we looked at what I had written and 
I saw that word, well that was the ignition, and it all started coming back to me. But it was gradual and as 
you remember I was tormented for quite a while trying to understand what was happening to me. It wasn't 
instantly like it was with Zoryan and Abydya when they, being in reality husband and wife, first met eyes at 
that UFO encounter. They had choreographed for themselves an instant re-awakening. I hadn't.

So then you must have pre-planned your re-awakening around that particular Voynich word, regardless of all 
other details, is that right?

That's basically right. I knew of course the infinite possibilities of outcomes, but I tuned myself to let 
the dice roll, so to speak.

Ok, Voynichese we're learning more and more is routinely used by TUNERS to communicate. But where's the 
Voynich connection in the story of Zoryan and Abydya? Did Abydya write in Voynichese on the magic parchment 
with her finger?

Well that's private to them Gary. We're privileged enough to know the message she wrote. But the story of 
Zoryan and Abydya is mentioned in the Voynich Manuscript.

It is? Where?

Folio 86r - that's Zoryan and Abydya there in that illustration.

Oh. Well, I gotta get more familiar with the manuscript. I can't remember what's on f86r. But I'll look it up 
first thing. .... Hey wait a minute - how'd the author of the Voynich Manuscript know the story of Zoryan and 
Abydya? I mean you gotta know about TUNERS to know that story. Or at least understand it. Isn't that right?

That's right, yes.

So the guy who wrote the Voynich Manuscript must have known a good deal about TUNERS, especially since the 
Voynich script seems to be a favorite of TUNERS. So then is the guy who wrote the world's most mysterious 
manuscript a TUNER?

I didn't say the Voynich author was a he, or even a single person. But yes indeed: the Voynich Manuscript, 
the most mysterious manuscript in your world, is overall the work of TUNERS.

[ A minute of silence goes by as the three agents think over the implications, now realizing that one of 
their official concerns, the ghostly intrusions at the underground government facility, being the appearances 
there of a TUNER, now has an implicit connection to the Voynich Manuscript, which is the work of TUNERS. 
Finally Roger breaks the silence. ]

So now it makes perfect sense: one of our major assignments, actually the top priority assignment currently, 
is getting to the bottom of what's happening down there at that secure facility. And you already told us last 
October that that ghost guy there is a TUNER doing geology. And you've been telling us to study the Voynich 
Manuscript, which was created by TUNERS. And the key thing is that we want to know, we want to know and 
understand the ghost guy because we have a need to know, it's our job to investigate it. We want to know, and 
our desire to know is driving us more and more to finding out about TUNERS, from you, the closest TUNER to 
us. You're right Thor - I'll accept that. I'll accept that our desire to know is what is getting us into all 
this weird stuff.

Thor, you said earlier that I asked a key question about why our curiosity to know brought us here this time, 
to know whatever it is we are trying to know, and I'm not completely clear on that because I suspect that 
each of us wants to know more than just what's going on down at Harrisburg. But anyway that key question was 
about trying to understand how you became a TUNER back in '72. And the answer is that you were always a 
TUNER, but you were asleep for a while and you woke up back then during our seances. I get the feeling this 
isn't the only key here today. I get the feeling there is something else, and it has to do with the author, 
or authors of the Voynich Manuscript. Am I right?

Yes very good Jake. Indeed, the Voynich Manuscript's authorship is something you want to know about, to 
whatever extent presently you know that you want to know. So I'll tell you some things. The Voynich began as 
the creation of a TUNER but almost immediately received the input of his girlfriend, also a TUNER. And these 
two were good-guy TUNERS. But there was an evil TUNER who was jealous and wanted to carry off the good girl 
TUNER. And to make a long story short, this began another War of the TUNERS. By the way, there are many such 
wars in progress. Anyway, allies from both sides joined the war. And since Voynichese, being actually an 
ancient variety of TUNERESE, deeply affects TUNER communications, the possession of the Voynich Manuscript 
became a primary target in this particular TUNER war.

But, the possession of the Voynich Manuscript by TUNERS is not primarily its physical possession in the sense 
that you nons understand possession of a physical object. In the TUNER reality it is often irrelevant where, 
or even when an object is, in your perspective that is. What matters more in the TUNER reality is the 
communication of the Voynich Manuscript - the struggle for its possession is the struggle to control the 
communication of its script, the resonances that the script on each of the Voynich's folios holds.

And those resonances are being fought over, even as we speak. The good-guy TUNERS are fighting to keep the 
resonances original and pure, while the bad-guy TUNERS seek to corrupt them. And so the script in the Voynich 
Manuscript is actually changing, as are the manuscript's other physical characteristics, like its 
illustrations: an ongoing morphing between corruption and restoration to original purity.

Wait a minute Thor - why don't we see these transformations in the Voynich Manuscript - it's always the same 
book, and it's been the same since Wilfrid Voynich first introduced it.

Is it Roger? How do you know?

Well, because it is - it's there, and it's the same as all it's earliest records show it.

How do you know the earliest records didn't also change right along with changes in the Voynich? A few 
minutes ago I put you guys through a panoramic diorama to let you see that you proceeded along different, but 
equally interesting reality tracks. Being ordinary nons, you guys can only ever experience one reality track, 
unless for a moment a TUNER like myself gives you a broader view. Everything you guys experience, absolutely 
everything, depends on your memories, and if those memories are altered, then that's what you experience. So, 
last October you experienced me as a short-order cook. This time you are experiencing me as a rich 
philanthropist. For TUNERS it is nothing to tune into a reality where all the nons and all their perceptions 
and all their records of every kind are on consistent memory tracks, it's nothing at all, it's routine. So, 
your FBI database back in October had me as a short-order cook, but now it has me as a rich philanthropist. 
And if I want, I'll tune into being a professional circus clown wearing exaggerated Spectator shoes juggling 
open bottles of gall ink, and you guys had to come to the circus to find me. And then your FBI records would 
reflect that. And so on. It's nothing - it is simply another reality track. But your memories handle only one 
track.

But then for cryin' out loud - who are we?! We're just nons as you call us, but dammit I'm real - I know that 
I know that I know! I'm self-conscious! I am absolutely certain that I have a will of my own, however weak it 
may be.

So?

So, who am I? Who am I if you TUNERS can change who I am anytime you feel like it?

You Roger, are just one Roger. I, at will, tune into any number of Rogers, which may differ from one another 
very greatly, or only infinitesmally. And each of the Rogers I tune into could perfectly well shout and 
insist that he is self-conscious, is real, has a will of his own, is married to Helen, and so on.

[ Roger slumps back into the couch, thinking over what he has just been told. Gary picks up the 
conversational thread. ]

Thor, if this TUNER war over the Voynich is changing the manuscript, and also changing other details in the 
world I think I'm living in, is there any way at all that I can tell? I mean can my consciousness ever bridge 
enough across my memory tracks to apprehend a hint of a parallel reality? Like paranormal phenomena?

Yes, and actually it's pretty common with you nons but most of you don't appreciate the significance of the 
signs left by the TUNERS. Although, as you know, many nons do believe in the paranormal, Caroline certainly 
being one, it's open embracement, especially a fair and patient scientific investigation of it, is 
discouraged and demeaned in open public forum as a sort of unofficial policy. But for example, have you ever 
had the experience of being absolutely positive that you put some object in a certain place, and then when 
you went to go get it, it was placed somewhere else, with no possible logical explanation?

Yeah, yeah I have. I've sometimes even thought that something paranormal was going on. Within the Bureau I'm 
sure you know, we do pay conservative attention to the paranormal when necessary, like this Harrisburg 
mystery.

Good, well now with the Voynich you may, if you really become a deep student of it, glimpse this effect, by 
comparing absolutely unquestionable recordings, and their copies, from different sources and places and 
times, of this or that piece of Voynich data. If you dedicate yourself to a serious study of the Voynich 
Manuscript, and by the way that will not be easy nor quick, then eventually you just may see a data detail 
without logical explanation, a data detail which is a left-behind and not-yet tidied-up trace of the battles 
over the Voynich, between the good and bad-guy TUNERS.

The Battle of the Tuners over the Voynich Manuscript! Fascinating!

[ Roger, who has been quiet, now raises a point. ]

Thor, there is an aspect to all this which is still bothering me. You say this TUNER war over the Voynich 
Manuscript is going on, and our memory-tracks are subject to it. And this means the memory-tracks of everyone 
in our worlds is subject to it. To me that means National Security is being affected. But last October I 
asked you point-blank if any of this affects national security, and you non-chalantly said you didn't think 
so. How can this be?

Well this is where the rubber meets the road Roger. Let me illustrate it this way: suppose I now cause your 
service weapon to materialize in my hand, and point-blank blow your brains out - don't worry I won't. But 
imagine I do, and you're dead. Does that affect national security?

Well of course it does, in a way. Of course it does!

Ok, now you know enough mathematics to answer this question: if I subtract 1 from infinity, how much is left?

Infinity of course.

Correct. And if I subtract any number, any number at all, no matter how inconceivably large, from infinity, 
how much is left?

Again infinity.

Again correct.

Now, if I subtract one Roger, and his one national security from an infinite number of Rogers and infinite 
number of national securities, how many are left?

[ Roger slumps back into the couch as Jake and Gary assume fearful expressions. After a moment of silence, 
Roger speaks. ]

I, I almost wish I hadn't asked you the question. ..... It's just that Helen and I worry mostly about our 
kids. We don't want bad things to happen to them.

Well then just keep on being good parents to them. Look guys, I have no more control over one fundamental 
fact than you do: I'm a TUNER, and you guys are nons. TUNERS live in the infinite space-time-memory fabric of 
existence, and so do nons, but the difference is that TUNERS live it completely, but the nons, the infinite 
number of nons, each live only a little infinitesmal slice of it. And we can't change what we each are, 
except that TUNERS like me can effectively simulate for ourselves the life of a non by going to sleep for a 
while. And in the physics of TUNERS that "while" I refer to is space-time-memory. The physics of you nons is 
only based on space-time. That's THE overarching reality.

Is there some way we can tell if someone we know is a TUNER?

Well remember what Jake said earlier - that his wife Caroline suspected, within her scope, my true nature. 
This brings us to another key point: it's essentially impossible for nons to recognize fully awake TUNERS, 
unless they are alerted by that TUNER, or another TUNER who is not blocked from providing the revelation. 
Caroline figured out what was happening with me while I was still in the slow and tortuous process of 
awakening. That's possible in such situations - a highly intuitive non may stumble upon the actual reality as 
it is unfolding, unfolding slowly in their reference frame of time. And now here is the punch-line: in this 
TUNER war over the Voynich Manuscript, there are ally TUNERS on both sides awakening and going to sleep, 
coming and going in and out of the war, like rest and recuperation in the ordinary wars in your world. Some 
of those awakening TUNERS, good or bad, are awaking slowly, and are potentially spotable by you nons. I just 
gave you a very powerful piece of information.

Yes you did. I appreciate it. Is there a sure way to tell good-guy TUNERS from bad-guy TUNERS?

Basically impossible unless the involved TUNERS let it happen. This you'll have to live with: there is always 
the uncertainty that a bad-guy TUNER has you completely and utterly fooled into thinking they are a good-guy. 
And if no good-guy TUNER successfully intervenes, well then you're just another turkey in the bad-guy's 
turkey farm.

Isn't there any way you can prove to us that you're a good-guy TUNER? I mean you're letting us in on all this 
mind-blowing stuff.

No. And so what? I can let you in on everything your brains could hold to overflowing, and then the next 
moment erase it all and replace it with nothing in particular. The answer is no - you can't ultimately know 
my essential inclination, good or bad, except on faith. A bad-guy TUNER is capable of infinitely greater 
deception finesse than the garden-variety non-tuner charming psychopaths you guys routinely deal with, and to 
whom the concepts of good and bad are nothing more than mere tool words anyway. Up against a psychopathic 
TUNER you have no chance whatsoever.

[ Thor delivered these words in a new tone, a tone with a distinct chill in it. A period of silence follows 
as the three FBI agents think over the frightening possibility that Thor may be a bad-guy TUNER who is 
deceiving them, even as he explains the very possibility of that to them, and with them powerless to 
determine the truth of the situation. Eventually Jake breaks the silence. ]

Now how do pumpkins and 1925 calendars tie in with all this?

Alright, think back hard Jake - don't you remember that it was in October of '72 when we started our seances, 
early October?

I, I remember it was late in the year, but October? I'm not sure.

Don't you remember that the very night I started with automatic writing was the first night your roommate had 
a Halloween Jack-O-Lantern pumpkin out on the porch?

That's right! That's right! I remember now. Yeah. As a matter of fact I helped him carve it. Yeah, and then 
everybody started arriving for the seance and somebody suggested trying automatic writing. Geeze!

Thor, when we saw you in that dream you looked like you were 35 years old. And that would mean you would have been born in 1890, and you'd be 110 now, twice what you are. Or what you look to us like you are. What's with this?

Well you mean in your dreams I looked like this .....

[ Right in front of his guests Thor instantly transforms into a 35-year old version of himself. The three men 
are stunned into gasping, but after some moments recover their composure, helped by now partly becoming 
accustomed to bizarre reality transformations around Thor Krohnchahck. ]

You see it was October 1925 when I decided I wanted to rest and go to sleep, go to sleep as a TUNER and for 
all practical purposes be a mere mortal. And I did. And then I died in 1948. And I was born again that same 
year in 1948, and in 1972 I re-awakened from a mere mortal as a TUNER.

Man I got a million questions I want to ask you now that you've basically brought up reincarnation! Caroline 
and I talk about it a lot. But first, why did you decide in October 1925 to go to sleep? Was there a special 
reason? I mean I understand it might be private and we have no right to know, but .....

Ok, do you remember in the dream you all had, the dream which started the chain of events which brought you 
here today, what your strongest reaction was?

Yeah of course - that eerie Morse code message, that it was the message all eternity had been waiting for, 
and now finally it had been received. I get chills right now thinking about the feeling of that during the 
dream.

Me too.

Yeah me too. What is the message Thor? Are we allowed to know?

You are indeed boys, you are indeed. The message is simple. Oh by the way it isn't always the same message. 
It can change depending on the particular eternity, so to speak.

What is it? I have to know. I mean I really, really want to know Thor!

The message is this: Get some rest.


[ Agents Jake Dickins, Roger Tandiman, and Gary Whiteson are in Dickins' car heading back home after visiting 
Thor Krohnchahck in Williamsport, the second such visit for Tandiman and Whiteson. They are reviewing the 
events of the day, with Roger leading the discussion. ]

Ok, so Krohnchahck is about the same as he was last October, still happy being a substitute math teacher 
while operating his little billiards parlor. And he's still living in a modest middle-class house north of 
town, part of which he's got rented out to this beautiful young woman who is an aristocratic-blood free-
spirit artist named Mercy who wishes he'd pay more attention to her. He's glad Jake came along this time. 
He's now definitely got us convinced that we have to get serious about studying the Voynich Manuscript 
because the guy who wrote it is somehow tied in with that ghost down there in Harrisburg. And in particular 
he suggests we study the Voynich 86r folio while reading and re-reading and re-reading Trithemius until it 
finally sinks in, whatever "it is that's supposed to sink in.

I mean it all has the flavor of some sort of weird ghost story, but there's a sense of something much more 
important about it. I mean something more philosophically important than the very important ongoing national 
security breach. But I just don't really know what it could be. We do have our reality check on Krohnchahck 
being an extraordinary character: he knew all about that T-shirt Gary won, right down to the last detail on 
the winning receipt.

Yeah I have the exact same feeling. There's more coming, I'm sure of it. Caroline says that Krohnchahck is an 
Olympian among us lowly mortals. Well if that's anything close to the reality, then he knows things a lot of 
people would kill for, even start wars over. But I'm thinking that all that usual power struggles stuff is to 
him just some triviality in something much more cosmically grand, which he's tuned into.

I think so too. It's like we're getting bits and pieces from Krohnchahck, piecemeal. Like it's leading up to 
something really grand, but first we have to know more, a lot more, about the Voynich Manuscript. well we've 
got a lot of stuff on it at the Bureau, a lot, but the best stuff really is online by the guys who seriously 
study it.

Yeah we're gonna have to get up to speed on it.

Yeah. Heh, maybe I'll get lucky again and win a book on the Voynich next time at the Qwik And Go, instead of 
a T-shirt.

Hey Gary if you don't want that shirt I'll take it.

Nah I want it, it's a nice shirt. I like the picture of the strawberry milkshake on it!

[ Jake's mobile phone rings. As Gary is sitting up front in the passenger seat, Jake has him answer it. ]

This is Gary Whiteson on Jake Dickins's phone.

Whiteson? This is Puskopf. Hey .... oh wait, I'll call you right back.

Crap!

What? Who was it Gary?

Puskopf. Says he'll call right back.

Oh geeze, what's that jerk want? It's saturday, and we all took this day off.

Man six months already with that clown. I don't know how much more I can stand of him. What if this 
Harrisburg thing just drags on and on and we're stuck with his socalled supervision?

Powner D. Puskopf stuck with a no-close case? Heh! No chance. Harrisburg could be blown to dust and he'd just 
get his next promotion on it. Just reach in his bottomless bag of special connections and pull another 
string. He'll be gone before long I'll bet. Actually, if this case drags on, I'll bet he hightails it as soon 
as he realizes he can't milk anything more from it.

[ The phone rings again, and Gary, with a reluctant expression on his face, picks up the phone to speak with 
their superior. ]

Alright so what did you guys find out about ghosts this time from that weirdo Krohnchahck? Are we blowing the 
taxpayer's money on chasing ancient ghosts or what?

Ah, ... ah we ah, got more info on the connection with the Voynich Manuscript.

Oh yeah, what you get?

Well, ah we have a specific page in the manuscript he says to study. It's folio 86r.

Folio 86r eh? Ok, I'll have crypto look into it. Alright see you monday morning in my office with your full 
report. Bye.

Bye.

[ Jake has already pulled the car over onto the shoulder and stopped. ]

Gary, that sounded like Puskopf already knew we were going to see Krohnchahck !

Yeah. I don't get it. I'm confused here. I thought the three of us were on this trip privately on our own 
time.

Well of course we were guys. We decided this last week at Jake's dinner party when we got talking about 
Krohnchahck. Remember? Didn't we?

I thought so. But Puskopf acted like he'd sent us on official assignment. He expects a report from us in his 
office monday morning.

Strange! I think I remember Puskopf mentioning Krohnchahck the other day. But it was just quick and casual. 
Wasn't it?

I guess we better plan on putting together a report.



[ End of TUNERS : II ]