Elvis Lives

(Picture Credit - Statistics Brain)

(Just found this golden oldie in my archives - you may remember some of the characters involved)

“Where the hell am I?” protested the thirty-plus Elvis. He was straight-jacketed inside a fifteen foot high glass cylinder. Standing in front of him were three white coated scientists (judging by their appearance).  

Central scientist: “What is your name and date of birth please?”

Elvis: “Elvis Presley, 8th January 1935. What’s going on, man?”

Scientist: “There’s no easy way to break this to you, Elvis. You are a Copy of the original Elvis. A complete copy, both physically and mentally. You have all his memories.”

Second scientist: “But we are going to reprogram your memory. Don’t worry, it will be painless. Soon you will have a new life, as an orphan with English foster parents. You will have adapted to losing your father at two and your mother at fourteen.”

First scientist: “The exciting thing, though, is that we are sending you to an alternate universe where there is no Elvis! Our agents there have arranged for you to be fostered in England. The year is 2011 there. It’s a great opportunity for you.”

Third Scientist: “You will remember nothing of this. All you will remember is singing Beatles and other famous songs with your mates at the pub.”

First Scientist: (Into a mike on his chest) “Let’s do it Sam!”

Instantly the cylinder filled with a blinding light. The deed was done. (Actually the memory-reprogramming was done. But once they were satisfied, Elvis was transported to that alternate Earth).

A few months later the X Factor judges were sitting at their table, waiting for the next auditionee to be summoned.

Tulisa: “What a morning!”

Gary: “Manchester is a big letdown today!”

Kelly: “That’s England for ya!”

Louise: “You bet. Ah here’s another.”

Tulisa’s fresh, beautiful face lit up as this swarthy young man ambled across the stage.

Tulisa: “Hello!” Who are you?

Elvis: “Elvis Presley, Ma’am.”

Tulisa: “And how old are you?”

Elvis: “Thirty two.”

Louis: “I hear you were fostered here as a teenager, Edmund.”

Elvis: “Huhuh? That’s Elvis, sir. Yes I was. I lost my mom when I was fourteen.”

Kelly: “Oh my. That’s really sad, honey!”

Gary: “What experience do you have of singing?”

Elvis: “Well, I just like to sing along with my friends at the pub.”

Gary: “How come we’ve not seen you before?”

Elvis: “Well, I’ve been waiting until my family are secure. They are now, so here I am.”

Louis: “What are you going to sing for us today, Elvis?”

Elvis: “Yesterday, by The Beatles.”

Louise: “When you are ready.”

Elvis: “Thank you very much.”

The music started. And Elvis sang...

Paul Butters

© PB 28\9\2011.

Abduction

Tom Parker looked down in horror. His car had just exploded after hitting a wall. But he wasn’t in it!

It had all started only minutes earlier when he had seen a dazzling bright light hovering above him. At that point he was driving home from a very successful political convention. Tom was all ready to slump in his armchair and enjoy a celebratory whisky. Instead, his car engine had cut out. And the instant he’d left the vehicle it had been grabbed by some ray from that “light” and flung into the nearest wall like a discarded toy.

Oh God, those alien abduction stories must be true!

That light was getting nearer: lower in fact. Tom could make out a circular shape… Now a beam hit him! He was lifted into the air, up towards that “craft”.

Horrible visions flooded his mind. He pictured little grey aliens with big eyes. Probes being thrust up his nose. Things being inserted into him in some alien operating theatre. Tom was terrified. Science fiction had become brutal fact.

Soon he could see what was indeed a “flying saucer” of sorts. A doorway slid open and in he floated, into some brightly lit but featureless room. Gently Tom was lowered onto a metallic floor. He sat for a moment, trying to calm his beating heart.

“Hello Tom.”

A voice came from behind him. He had to turn. A human male!

Human: “Are you okay, Tom?”

Tom: “Er, guess so.”

Human: “I’m Paul Weston. Pleased to meet you Tom.”

Tom: “You’re human?!”

Paul: “Just as human as you, Tom. Please come with me.”

In something of a haze, Tom was led into another room via a sliding door.

Paul: “We call this our reception room, Tom. Please take a seat and strap yourself in. We are about to depart. You need to secure yourself.”

The room was circular, with “flying aircraft seats” fixed to the walls. Paul took a seat and strapped himself in, alongside two other men and a pretty female. They all wore uniform which suggested military. Paul motioned Tom to follow his lead and strap in.

Tom: “But I don’t want to ‘depart’! What the hell’s going on.”

Paul: “Calm down, Tom. You’ll have a rough ride if you don’t strap in, believe me!”

Tom weighed up his options. He was totally at the mercy of these people. Resistance was futile, as the saying went. So he randomly chose a seat and strapped in, with the help of some instructions from the others.   

He was soon damn glad he’d complied. Suddenly the whole place went sort of shaky. It reminded Tom of being put to sleep by “laughing gas” at the dentist as a kid. Everything became chaos. Then, just as suddenly, all returned to normal.

“We’re home,” announced Paul, “It’s time to talk. Would you like a drink, Tom?”

Seconds later, Tom was holding a “plastic” cup of coffee.

Tom: “You people from the military?”

Paul: “Not exactly. And no, we aren’t aliens in disguise!”

Tom: “Who the hell are you then?”

Paul: “Right. Now I must warn you, Tom, this is going to be hard to believe.”

Tom: “Try me.”

Paul: Well, there’s no easy way to tell you this, but from your perspective, we are from the far future.”

Tom: “What?”

Paul: “Yes, Tom, and as soon as we’ve got clearance we’ll take you outside and show you.”

Tom continued protesting, but Paul pressed on.

Paul: “This is difficult, Tom, but we had to come back to your time in order to remove you from the timeline.”

Tom: “Why?”

Paul: “Because, my friend, history tells us that, as a highly successful politician you perpetrated actions which ultimately caused a global war.”

Lady (cutting in): “Our analysts are assessing now whether your, er, abduction is sufficient to avert the blackest part of our history, Tom. Oh, er, sorry to be rude: I’m Amanda Wright.”

Paul: “Come with me, I’ll show you the evidence.”

With that, Tom was escorted by the others to what could best be described as a computerised library containing many “viewscreens”. There he was appalled to witness for himself the historical “reasons” for the decision to kidnap him. He’d actually become his country’s “Minister for Defence” and in that capacity had made some horrific mistakes.

Eventually Tom turned to the others, with shock still written all over his face.

Tom: “I’m very sorry for this. Look, if you take me back I promise on my life not to take the same path again. Well, at all. Understand?”    

Amanda: “Well, first we need to see what the outcome has been for this mission. Yes?”

The others agreed. Off they all went again, this time heading into a spacious Control Room. Almost everyone turned to face them.

Amanda: “Has the analysis been completed?”

A man stepped forward.

Man: “Ah, we’ve been waiting for you. Hello Tom, I’m Captain Mark Middleton. Welcome on board Timeship ‘Endeavour’. Gladly I can confirm that we have a ninety percent success on this mission. Please follow me, everyone, it’s time to go out there and present ourselves for debriefing.”

So Tom walked out, along with his new companions, down some twisting corridors and through the ship’s main exit. The cityscape that now surrounded them was simply awesome.

They were welcomed by a massive crowd of people, all ready to give them a “tickertape welcome”.

There was of course lots of fuss and bother. It was all chaotic. But eventually Tom was ushered into a spacious “lounge” to “meet the other guests.”

Straight away a male “guest” stepped forward to greet him.

Male Guest: “Welcome to The Future Tom. I’m Robert Wang. Come and meet your fellow guests.”

Tom: “All these?”

Robert: “Yes, Tom. You are the 24^th. And yes, we were all taken from our homes, like you.”

Tom: “Wow!”

Robert: “Yes, we just need to get you settled in. We can make plans later. This is the headquarters of ‘The Time Corps’. Be assured there is surveillance almost everywhere. So please, Tom, do behave yourself, won’t you?”

Robert winked and smiled, ushering Tom towards to nearest group of guests. Swiftly he was handed some food and drink.

After this “reception”, the other guests led him out along some “lanes” to a walled “estate” of residences. One residence was an almost exact replica of his own house back in the distant past. Sure enough, Tom was to stay there. Nice touch.

In the middle of this estate there was a park. Robert was very keen to show him this pleasant feature.

Suddenly Robert tugged him through a gap in the shrubbery!

Robert: “Okay, Tom there’s no surveillance here. We can talk freely. But I repeat, nowhere else unless we tell you otherwise!”

Tom: “Got that.”

Robert: “Good. As you can see, we are all well treated. But we are all abductees. No matter how nice it is, this is still a prison. And some of us want out. Yeh. And some of us reckon we can take that timeship and get us all back home. Back to our loved ones and all. Are you in?”

Tom: “Sure am.”

Paul Butters

Regression

(Picture Credit - Past Life Progression Therapy by Esmart Com)

Who’s that? This man looks vaguely familiar. Some sort of doctor or therapist. Middle aged and smartly dressed. I do not know him though.

Where am I? I turn my head as best I can. I’m clearly laying on a soft couch of sorts. Yes, he must be a therapist. Others are here too.

Man (smiling): “Hello, I’m Doctor Logan Mohammed-Henderson, are you okay?”

Me: “MMM, I guess so. Where am I?”

Logan: “You are at the Leeds Institute my good man. You are perfectly safe here. What is your name?”

Me: “Paul White.”

Logan: “Paul, what is the last thing you remember?”

Me: “Err. Well, I remember I’m in a Care Home. I’ve got Dementia and I’m close to death. The last thing I remember is laying in my bed waiting to fall asleep.”

Logan: “Good. Do you know what year it is, right here, right now?

Me: “No. My memory is shocking these days!”

Logan: “It’s 2157, Paul.”

Me: “Eh? I thought it was the two thousands…”

Logan: “It was, Paul, but you are no longer in that home.”

Just noticed. I raised my arms as I was speaking. They look different! I look down. My body looks much slimmer, younger looking. Do not recognise these clothes.

Me: “My body’s all changed!”

Logan: “That’s right Paul. Do you not recall talking to me before?”

Me: “What? No I don’t.”

Logan: “Interesting. We’ve talked a fair few times now Paul. Tell you what, would you like to see yourself in a mirror?”

Me: “Yes, why not? Can’t be much weirder than these arms!”

The Doctor motions to another man, who steps near me, obviously to help me up. I’m still reeling from all this and very apprehensive now. I’ve always had something of a phobia for mirrors, so this is not good news.

I’m led into an adjacent room. Both rooms look quite “modern”, as one might expect considering the “year”. Right in the centre of this space is a full-length mirror.

And there we are. I now look like some slightly spotty, early-twenties male. I guess I just gasped in disbelief.

Me: “Why have I changed, Doctor?”

Logan: “Ah. Well that’s not easy to explain to you, Paul. Let’s go sit down and talk about it.”

They help me back to that couch.

Lady: “I’m Doctor Clara Foster. Do you want a drink, Paul?”

Me: “Er, okay, I am thirsty, can I have an orange squash please.”

With drink in hand, I’m ready for Doctor Logan to continue explaining things.

Logan: “Paul, as I say, this is hard for me to tell you. But… (he shrugs)… strictly speaking that body of ‘yours’ belongs to my client, Dave Summers.”

I can only stare at Logan in astonishment.

Logan: “Mr. Summers suffers from what you would call Multiple Personality Disorder or Dissociative Identity Disorder. You’ve heard of that, yes?”

I nod. I do not like where this is going.

Logan: “To put it bluntly, Paul, you are one of his ‘identities’…”

Me: “I can’t be, I’m a real person!”

Logan: “Hate to say this, Paul, but fact is you are a real dead person. I mean, do the Maths.”

Me: “Dead!”

Logan: “Yes, but you are real: we’ve done the research.”

Me: “Oh My God.”

Logan: “So what I’ve been doing with Mr. Summers, in my capacity as a Hypnotic Therapist, is to repeatedly regress him to one of his personalities. You, sir, are taking part in another such session.”

Me: “You say there are other, er, personalities like me?”

Logan: “Yes Paul, and most of them so far have been tracked back to real people who lived before Mr. Summers was born.”

I gasp again.

Logan: “The thing is, Paul, the trouble is with all you personalities is that you cannot recall these sessions.”

Me: “Well, you do look vaguely familiar to be fair, Doctor.

Logan: “Please call me Logan. I’d like us to be as informal as possible…”

Me: “That’s okay be me.”

Logan: “But let’s cut to the chase, as you say. I have a request to make of you.”

Me: “Request?”

Logan: “Yes, Paul. I was wondering if you would allow me to hypnotise you?”

Me: “Me???”

Logan. “Yes You. Not Dave Summers – he is already under hypnosis, but just you.”

Me: “Why?”

Logan: “Why? So that the next time I summon you, you will remember this and every subsequent session. Hopefully you will also recall everything you did whenever you “took over” Mr, Summers’ body in everyday life outside this Institute. And I’m sorry to have to press you, but this needs to be done this session, very soon.”

MMM. I have no option but to agree. Can’t go on like this, being “awakened” over and over again…

Me: “Okay. I’m up for it. Why not.”

And it is done.

Logan! He’s here again! I’m awake once more. As though never asleep.

Me: “Hello Logan.”

His beaming face is priceless.

We talk a while. Everyone is overjoyed that my hypnotism worked.

Me (presently): “What happens next, Logan?”

Logan: “I’m going to put you back to sleep soon, but the next time I awaken you, I will be asking you for a full report on whatever’s happened between sessions.”

Me: “You mean you hope I’ll remember one of my “possessions” or whatever of Dave.”

Logan: “That’s right.”

Me: “I can’t wait.”

Can’t lose here either. The least I’ll get is another awaking by The Doctor.

He puts me back to sleep.

And I’m awake.

And it’s not in the Institute.

Where am I now?

God, I seem to be in some sleazy 22^nd Century version of a night club. And I’m with some friends it seems, with a drink in front of me.

Oh well, it could have been a lot worse.

 

Paul Butters

 

© PB 16\9\2015.