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Seven Point Eight:

The most powerful number in the universe.

The number that connects everything.

A long time ago, our ancestors lived in a very different world

from the one we inhabit today. We understood the language of the Earth, the stars, the sky people and we knew of the Number. This was a moment known as The First Time. 

But over time, we forgot all of this and the wisdom of the Number was lost too. We walked through life asleep, ignorant
of the truth.

Yet we retain a deep and hidden memory of everything that we ever were. There lies within us the hope that one day, we can re-connect with the language of the Earth, the stars, the sky people and the wisdom of the Number. The moment has arrived for The Second Time.

It is time to wake up.

A physicist begins a quest to measure the soul but soon finds himself drawn into the world of the enigmatic Max Richardson, where research is sold to the military at the highest bid. However, he soon discovers another purpose when an extremely talented young psychic enters his life. He devises a project

and builds a team to stretch the frontiers of exploration, only to make a reality-shattering discovery...

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EXCERPT

FROM SEVEN POINT EIGHT: THE FIRST CHRONICLE

Was it the people here or the place itself that was insane? Did its aura drive sane people crazy in insane places?

She reached the reception, where a rather matronly woman recognised her. Despite this, the woman announced herself.

“Hi, it’s Ava Kavanagh, and I’ve come to see Maria Martinez.”

She signed into the visitors’ book, which was then replaced behind the desk where it belonged, and she was escorted to the low security wing. It sat at the end of a long corridor, which was not well-lit but even so, light twisted acrobatically across the walls, as if projected by car headlights. Ava behaved as if the situation were normal; she didn’t want to attract undue attention to her erstwhile grasp of reality.

The route to Maria’s room passed some rather unusual residents and each time, Ava glanced through the window in their door, very inquisitive as to what their story was. The first curiosity was a dark haired man, who was always surrounded by reams of paper and this time, the woman felt a strong desire to enquire about him.

“Is he a writer or something?” she asked.

Her escort was surprised at her interest.

“We call him The Scribbler, as the only way we can manage his behaviour is to give him access to paper and a pen. He writes constantly, but it’s all gibberish, rows and rows of symbols.”

Ava gave him a lingering glance, feeling a sense of sadness regarding his predicament. What a waste of human life.

They passed another character, a blonde haired woman with an intense and seething look on her face. This time, she wasn’t restrained although she crouched on her bed, bearing a menacing expression on her face. When she saw Ava, she snarled.

“What’s wrong with her, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Her escort acquiesced to her questioning again.

“Schizophrenia… she hears voices, which she claims instruct her to do evil. She enjoys inflicting pain on others, so we have to isolate her.”

Ava was touched deeply this time.

“Like Maria’s original diagnosis?”

Her escort tried to smile sympathetically, although she said nothing. Ava made eye contact with the intense character behind the door, which sent a chill down her spine.

“She reminds me of the girl from The Exorcist,” she commented.

They turned the corridor, and there were two more people that Ava felt drawn to; a black man and woman, who resided in the same room. They appeared to be actors in a play of their own making.

“Lost in their own little world, aren’t they?” she said.

“We call them The Time Travellers, as they always insist they’ve travelled to the past and future. Most of the time they’re locked in an imagery scenario, living some other reality. We keep them together, as their behaviour is more manageable if we do so.”

The final curiosity that Ava had to ask about was a man with fair hair, who could often be seen punching at the walls, or shouting for books. He was oblivious to their presence and Ava’s gaze. On this day, he was standing in front of a wall, reaching out to touch it with his fingers.

“What is he doing?” Ava asked.

“He believes he can walk through walls,” her escort explained. “My, we’ve had some bruises over the years. I don’t know what’s worse, his wall or book obsession.”

They passed through some double doors, which required a security code to gain entry into the next corridor. There, they soon found room 104 and Ava paused outside.

“Has there been any change in her condition since I last visited?”

Her escort shook her head, sadly.

“She’s still in a persistent vegetative state, exactly the same as the day she arrived.”

Ava accepted the situation with reluctance.

“She’s the only living relative I know of,” she explained. “I was hoping one day I’d discover where we came from, who our parents are and if our father is still alive. Did you recover the file from the facility she transferred from?”

“I’m sorry, it’s still missing.”

Undeterred, Ava pressed further.

“Does anybody else visit her? They may be able to offer some clues to her history… why she ended up in this condition, when and why she cut her wrists...”

“I can’t disclose that information, it’s confidential I’m afraid.”

Her escort opened the door and Ava entered, determined to present a face of hope to Maria, her sister.