It's been a long day, I'm buried in more email, and I've had two glasses of wine. Time for a long rambling post full of tangents and disturbances, starring an ensemble cast of the horrific little thoughts that have been collecting in the back of my mind since September.
So, the problem with this whole mess, with Andrew and Mark and Danielle and who knows how many others, the problem is it's crazy. You'd have to be crazy to take this all in and convince yourself 'Yeah, it happened, and it will continue to happen.'
So let's get crazy, Jen. I'm already there. I'm to the point that I think the reason something this horrific continues to spread is the power of human denial. Skepticism and curiosity, a dangerous duo. The house knows this. It banks on it. It gets its next victim that way, and prevents the truth from becoming so widespread and accepted as to blow its cover. The old line about the greatest trick the devil ever pulled.
All right. So there is a house, a set of houses. Identical. How? I don't know. The houses are inexorably tied. They share some sort of space, in some way. I picked up a science book the other day called The Holographic Universe, and Talbot (the author) talks about the phenomenon of this decaying photon particle, and how when it decays it suddenly seems to be in two places at once, but really it's just the way we're perceiving it, with the tools we're using, that gives it that illusion. There's this whole example, if you had a guy who didn't know what a camera or TV was, and hadn't seen a fish before, and you set him down in front of two monitors each focusing on different angles of the same fish, his kneejerk conclusion would be that there are two separate creatures somehow behaving as a unified pair. What one does, the other does.
I know I butchered that. But the book is in my car so you'll just have to bear with me. So this house is like that photon particle. It's in different places, but also in the same place. See, this explains the strange sounds and voices people hear inside; the sound is bleeding through from other locations, other iterations of the same hallway. For example, maybe Linney heard Mark trying to reach me on the phone, even though he was in Boise and she lives (lived?) in Arizona.
Then there's the way it regurgitates things, like keys. They don't show in the same place either. But then again the entire second story isn't supposed to exist, so all bets are off. Right? I'd like to find the architect who drew up these plans, and lock that fucker in an upstairs room.
Okay, so the house can do one of two things to you:
1) digest you
2) sort of partially digest you, 'hollow you out' as Mark would say, and make you a subserviant tool to obey the house
Why would it need us like that? Again, two options spring to mind:
An example of self-preservation: the Madsons. They'd been in the house, lived there for some time. And they managed to escape. I'm guessing here, maybe they posed a risk, like "MrParanoia" mentions. Was that risk due to them having stayed so long in the house without falling victim? Or was it a discovery? It had to be something big, for the house to keep tracking them for four years. If Drew kept taking jobs at Blockbuster Video stores, maybe he had the Madsons' account info and could tell where they were renting movies.
Speaking of, Mark mentioned Drew had a lot of IDs for different states. Did he stay in another iteration of the house in each state? How many are there?
The appetite theory is self-explanatory. The house uses people (who then use email, articles, etc.) as "lures" to ensnare new victims. Flies. I know I'm leaning heavily on Mark's original theory now, but I agree with him. Maybe I secretly believed him all along. And if that's true...
Christ, it's Andrew all over again. I let Mark slip away because I didn't want to face this mess, and now he haunts me the way Drew haunted him. As a memory. I'm so sorry, Jen. I'm sitting here trying to convince myself of the same ridiculous, insane, terrible thoughts Mark attempted to share five weeks ago! Why is the unexplained so taboo we can't accept it? We can't go to friends for help?
Did you know the human eye only sees about 40 percent of what we think is really there? Our brains interpolate the rest and fill in the missing space. There's a visual exercise in this quantum book that demonstrates it. I don't know what that has to do with this, but it stuck in my head after reading about it.
I want to see Mark again. I want this whole nightmare to be over, Jen. I feel so bad, I wake up aching in my chest at night. I leave lights on. I worry that I'm starting to go crazy, and the act of worrying pulls me further from sanity. But I still worry: about you, about Connie, and me. Are we in danger? Are we in a position to kill this fucking monster that took Mark? Is that also why we're in danger?
Too many questions, and the wine is doing all the talking now.
Off to bed.