The GhostNote 2000
Written by Todd Summar
Installation by Karen Pedone, Laura Askey & Clara Solak
Gary circled September 29, 1974 in his date book in bold red marker. He dared not write anything else, for fear of jinxing it. That night, in the chill of the garage he rented from his landlord, under sepulchral fluorescents, the turntable-sized machine clicked and hummed on the workbench. Its antenna sparked as he twisted the knobs he had culled from old radios. The machine’s whine, emanating from inside the small box he had built from pieces of Grandma Lucy’s cedar dresser, wavered and settled into a frequency he knew was correct.
He knew because he could feel her there with him.
“Okay, Grandma Lucy,” he said to the empty room. “Give me a sign.”
The machine jerked and vibrated. The dial spun wildly inside the glowing red gauge. A wisp of smoke wafted from the vent in the back, producing a pungent electrical odor. A small card popped into the tray at the front of the machine. Gary picked it up and read it, a smile stretching across his face.
My sweet Gary … Why are you still single?
He laughed and shook his head. Typical. Grandma Lucy had been his best friend and closest confident until her death last spring. Even when his parents had let him down, time and time again, she had been there to wipe his tears. But there was one thing he could never bring himself to tell her.
A nervous flutter warmed his belly. This would be it; he was convinced. His big break. Each of the other members of the Creative Committee at Utilitarian Communication Devices Enterprises, LLC, had developed a useful, functional product that had gone from design to manufacturing. All but him. This machine would get him noticed and taken seriously. He called it the GhostNote 2000, and it printed messages from the dead (up to 140 characters each) on business-sized cards.
“Thank you so much, Grandma Lucy,” he said, nearly weeping with joy. “This is going to usher in a new paradigm in paranormal communication!”
Another card popped out.
Cut the corporate jibber-jabber, sweetie. Just be yourself!
Gary’s nervous flutter had grown to a full electrical storm in anticipation of the Creative Committee meeting the next morning. He had to drink nearly half a bottle of Pepto-Bismol by nine a.m. As long as Ben, the Committee Chair, didn’t notice, Gary would be okay.
The GhostNote 2000 sat in the center of the otherwise bare oak table that stretched the length of the conference room. Clouds of cigarette smoke transformed Gary’s co-workers into ghosts that lit up like coals whenever someone took a drag. Gary did his best not to inhale as his eyes burned and teared up. This was just another test.
“You mean to tell us that this thing sends postcards to the dead?” Teresa, emerging from her smoke cloud in a rainbow-colored scarf, leveled a sharp glare at him across the table.
“Well, not exact—”
“Is it a toy?” asked Herbert beneath a bushy mustache that gently rippled when he spoke. “Is it for kids?”
“Oh no!” shouted Martha in her raspy smoker’s voice. “I still haven’t recovered from seeing The Exorcist. Talking to the dead is not child’s play, trust me.” She drew a fingertip across her feathered bangs.
Ben smiled and held up his hands to quiet everyone. “Folks, please. Let’s give Gary a chance to demonstrate this prototype.” He was the only other person not smoking, and for that alone, Gary couldn’t help liking him.
Ben winked and nodded at Gary, who did his best to remain steady as he stood and presented his creation.
“The GhostNote 2000 is a means of communicating with the dead. That’s true. But safely and professionally. No more messy Ouija board encounters. No need to throw away countless dollars hiring a psychic.” He looked each of them firmly in the eyes, bracing himself against the table with his fingertips. “Now you can speak to your deceased loved ones conveniently and in the privacy of your own home.”
Gary gestured toward the machine and the gauge glowed red in response.
“Is there anyone from the spirit realm in this conference room with us right now? If so, state your name.”
A card popped out. Ben pulled it from the tray and looked up at Gary. “It says, ‘Your grandma, silly. Lucille Jean Whitaker if you need my Christian name.’”
“There’s a limit of 140 characters, but Grandma Lucy is usually succinct.”
“You could have printed that in advance,” said Manny, a meaty blowhard with mutton chops and a year-round tan.
“Grandma Lucy, how many cigarettes does Teresa have left in her pack?”
Teresa giggled. She grabbed the card that came out. “Hm. Four. Well, I smoked one a moment ago….” She peeked inside her pleather cigarette pouch. “Okay, there’s four, but…”
“Grandma Lucy,” Gary said, louder and more confidently. “Are there any other spirits besides you in the room with us?”
Ben took the card from the tray and laughed. “She says, ‘Oh yes! Martha’s dead Uncle Morty is here, and not only is he a windbag who won’t quit telling boring stories, but he also stinks to high he—’ She ran out of letters.” He flipped the card around to show them.
“Oh, Uncle Morty!” Martha erupted into a fit of sobs and covered her face with her hands. “It’s a miracle.”
Hebert jumped up and rushed out of the room.
Gary grimaced at Ben and shrugged, unsure what would happen next. Ben met his glance with a warm smile. His presence calmed Gary, as always.
Hebert returned, guiding a short man who looked like a bowling ball. Several people in the room gasped quietly. Gary recognized the man from the framed photos that lined the halls. Reginald Apparatus, Jr., CEO and company founder.
Reginald turned to Ben and said, “Gary! Great news…”
Ben shook his head and pointed to Gary.
Reginald followed Ben’s finger and addressed Gary. “Ah, Gary. I just heard about your prototype. Intriguing! We’ll begin control experiments tomorrow.”
Gary took a breath and opened his mouth to respond, but Reginald was already gone. Gary braced himself on the table, dizzy, and caught Ben giving him a thumbs up.
Control experiments for the GhostNote 2000 began promptly at nine o’ clock the next morning. The plan was for each member of the Creative Committee to take turns sitting alone in the Focus Room with the machine, attempt to communicate with a deceased person of their choosing, take notes, and examine the cards that appeared in the tray.
Gary would not take part in the experiments since it was his invention. Instead, he would wait in the conference room with the committee as the experiments were conducted.
“Does it always move this quickly?” he whispered to Ben as Martha left the room to get started. “I just pitched the product yesterday.”
“When Reginald likes an idea, he moves fast.” Ben’s eyes were such a deep brown that Gary almost couldn’t tell where his pupils began. “Speaking of that…”
Reginald marched into the conference room and huffed as he sat down next to Gary. “Gentlemen… Ladies.” He pointed at Gary. “You ready? I’ll be the last test subject if you don’t mind.”
“Uh, s-sure.” Gary clasped his hands in front of him, rubbing his thumbs against his clammy palms. He took a deep breath. This was really happening.
Reginald scribbled something in his notebook. Gary snuck a peek to find a collage of doodles: generic ghosts with black eyes, dollar signs, and what looked like a naked lady.
Meanwhile, Martha slipped into the Focus Room, ready to critique the hell out of this contraption. Gary had caught her off-guard yesterday, but she wouldn’t let it happen again.
The room was a sterile, all-white mirror reflection of the conference room. Cruel, fluorescent lighting blanched all humanity within. It was purposely devoid of life so as not to influence the test subject. The GhostNote 2000 sat in the center of the glass conference table, taunting her. She eased herself into one of the clear plastic chairs, making herself as comfortable as it would allow.
“Alright, Uncle Morty. If you’re still here, talk to me.”
A card landed in the tray. You’re still smoking? I told you to stop.
“You never said that. You smoked like a chimney.”
Another card. You haven’t been to Mass in months.
“Mother? Is that you?” She tossed the card to the floor.
You want to end up like me? Smoking cigarettes in Hell?
Martha gasped in horror. “You’re… in Hell?”
Not really, but you’re going to be if you don’t shape up.
Martha jumped to her feet, knocking over the chair. “I don’t have to listen to this. You nagged me enough when you were alive!”
When it was Teresa’s turn, she knew exactly who she wanted to summon.
“Hey, Samantha. Are you there? You taught me everything you knew about this snake pit. What’s the scoop?”
When the card came out, she read it three times to be sure. Herbert’s been sneaking into your desk after hours and stealing your ideas.
“That weasel! I knew it!” She nearly smashed the machine in a rage, but she wanted Samantha to tell her more.
Gary watched the faces of each committee member as they returned to the conference room. His mood fell as they accosted him with angry scowls, frustrated grimaces, and poker-blank stares. The only exception was Ben, who struggled to hide a goofy grin that kept reappearing when he settled back into his chair after his session.
Reginald was gone the longest. So long, in fact, that after a stretch of thick silence interrupted only by the sound of fingers drumming the table, Gary spoke up.
“You think someone should go check on him?”
Just then, the door burst open. Reginald stomped into the conference room, his face crimson and damp, his eyes wild, jowls trembling. He carried the GhostNote 2000 in both hands, holding it away from his body as if it were radioactive.
The machine hummed and quivered, spitting a continuous stream of cards out of the tray that pelted Reginald’s striped tie and fell to the floor.
“Turn… this… thing…off,” he growled.
“So…” Gary caught his breath and slowly stood up. “I take it the experiment was a success?”
Reginald lifted the GhostNote 2000 above his head and slammed it onto the table with a sickening crash. The red bulbs shattered, the dial popped off, and the antenna twisted sideways. The cedar body remained intact, but the lights went dark.
“This machine…these cards… How could you print this slander?”
“You don’t understand,” Gary said quietly. “I don’t write the cards. The ghosts do. That’s why it’s called the Ghost—”
“I know what it’s called!”
Manny pointed at Teresa. “My grandpa told me you don’t wash your hands after you use the ladies’ room.”
“That’s ridiculous.” Teresa dug her fingers into her pouch. “Speaking of secrets, though.” She popped a cigarette into her mouth and lit it for dramatic effect. “Herbert. Samantha told me what you’ve been doing after hours.”
“I-I…” Herbert’s face went white. “It was just once. In the broom closet.”
“Huh?”
Martha sat closest to where Reginald stood, his fists clenched. She picked up a card, did a double take, and gaped at him.
“You’ve been embezzling how much from the company?”
“That’s a lie.” Reginald ripped the card from her fingers and tore it into pieces. “All of you shut up.”
Gary told himself to stay calm, to not wither or give up. That was the old Gary. The one who was so afraid of failure he never tried anything. If the GhostNote 2000 and all the spirits had taught him anything, it was that he had to push past the fear and keep going if he wanted to arrive anywhere worthwhile.
“Sir, it seems like the machine is working as intended. But maybe if we try another round of tests—”
“Clean up this garbage,” Reginald said, gesturing to the machine and the cards. “Pack up your things and get out. You’re fired.”
No one in the room looked at Gary. Not even Ben. But Gary noticed fingers snatching cards and tucking them into pockets. They wanted to keep their secrets, but they were done with him.
Later, Gary wedged himself through the revolving doors clutching a cardboard box full of his stuff. He almost got stuck, but the doors relented and poured him onto the sidewalk in front of the building.
The crisp, autumn air woke him up and gave him a sense of hope. Still, he couldn’t resist turning around for one last glance.
A flash of sunlight on the building’s glass shell took the shape of Grandma Lucy. It looked like she was waving. He tried to free a hand to wave back, but she disappeared.
Ben jogged out of the revolving doors and stopped in front of Gary, catching his breath.
“Good,” he said, hands braced against his thighs. “You’re still here.”
“Did you run down the stairs?”
Ben straightened himself. “Yeah. I wanted to give you this.” He offered Gary a card.
“I thought I got them all.”
“No, this is a business card. One of my contacts. They can help you with the machine.”
Gary stared at him for a moment, considering, and then took the card.
“I’m sorry about what happened up there,” Ben continued. “You’ve really got something special. But this isn’t the right place.” He laughed. “This place is a mess.”
“Thanks.”
“So…” Ben scratched the back of his neck and looked away.
“So…” Gary echoed, staring down at the machine.
“When I was in the Focus Room, during my session, I got a surprise visit.” Ben reached into his pocket, pulled out another card, and handed it to Gary.
My grandson is still single. What are you waiting for?
Gary snorted out a surprised laugh and looked up at Ben, who beamed at him.
“Would you like to have dinner with me?” Ben asked.
Gary suspected that Ben already knew the answer.