Molyneaux's Problem: Part 2

I could tell Steve was irritated with me, when I called him. He wanted the information, but was not thrilled by my conditions. That I wanted him to take me out to dinner. It was probably not that I wanted dinner that irritated him, so much as my insisting it be to a nice place, so I could dress up, I also insisted he wear a tie, and jacket. I mean, I deserved this, after all had to go through to get this information. Anyhow, I wore nylons, heels, a black skirt, and a red top. Red was becoming my favorite color. Not that I have ever seen a color, but the associations red has with sex, danger, and attention attracted me. I was also told the color red is somehow associated with China, I am of Chinese ancestry, so I considered that a bonus. Anyhow, Steve arrived on time, which I appreciated. When you are blind you must stay organized, and like the people you deal with to be organized. Steve knew how to navigate me around. I could feel the texture of his blazer as I held his arm, I may be blind, but hard to fool. It was a pleasant drive over to the restaurant, Steve had enough sense not to ask about the information yet. I had told him on the phone not to rush me, that I needed to feel beautiful. I know it is sad you actually have to tell men these things. It turned out to be a great restaurant, with valet parking. I was pleased. Anyhow, as he was navigating me into the restaurant, I decided I needed to flirt some; part of feeling beautiful. When you are blind you obviously cannot use your eyes like sighted women. I have to admit I have never understood the batting of the eyes. What is sexy or flirty about rapid blinking? Guess there are things about the sighted world I shall never understand. So you use what you got. So I faked a miss-step allowing me to rub my breasts on his arm. I got a better reaction than I ever expected. I felt his body go stiff in anger. It felt good to invoke such a strong emotion. I dispelled the mood by asking his height. Back when I was in school I knew some blind boys would guess sighted women"s height when they were being sighted guides to break the ice. It is not hard with some practice. I could tell he was tall, it turned out he is six feet one inch. Anyhow, we finally made it to the table. I think Steve must have used some of his cop gravitas to get us such a good table on such short notice. It was one of those places where you have to get reservations far in advance to get a table. After we ordered I gave him the papers, of course I had no idea what was on them, they were printed. He must have scanned them quickly, because he asked: "Where did you get these papers from?" Although Hugo, and Randal Klaw never said anything about keeping them secret, I knew it would be a very bad idea to mention them. They did not mention it, because it was so obvious. So I replied with some levity: "Sorry. I shall have to keep you in the dark about the source." Steve did not appreciate my humor. This was happening a lot lately. He did not take the answer well: 'Gwen, you are infuriating, you have to be the most deceptive, manipulative woman I have ever had to deal with." I of course, could not let this stand unchallenged, not that everything he said was untrue. I replied in a tone that more mocking than I intended. "You forget I am blind, what you call manipulative is just that I have to be more organized than sighted people." He let the subject drop. Which pleased me, after all I am a philosopher so I like to win arguments. Some might say it is because I am a woman, but I do not think so. Well maybe, it is a bit of both. Anyhow he asked in a milder tone : "Can I at least call Jai to come and pick up the papers?" This I consented to, after all I am not total bitch. Jai was unobtrusive, she just slipped in and picked up the papers with a quick "Hi". Steve brought up the case; giving me more information: "We have two so called psychics that seem to have lost most of their memory." Nick Edwards was not among the names mentioned. I told him to check out Nick Edwards, and also told him what I knew about the Carmilla dagger, and Oswald Kroll's psychic powers. He was stunned not really believing what I said, but with no better alternate explanation. He continued: "The only real clue we had was Arthur Granville (one of the psychics who had his memories stolen) saying "The P.R. Group" over and over again." After a pleasant dinner, and desert the night broke up and Steve took me home. I was feeling like a social butterfly, the next night I had another date. This time with Jordan Munn. I had previously helped Jordan with some trouble. We had hit it off and started seeing each other, nothing official. He had asked me to an artist friend's unveiling of a new painting, and showing of his work. The artist name was Mark Ortega, I had never met him, but had heard much about him and his talent from Jordan. We were going with another friend of Jordan who was quickly becoming a close friend of mine: Marie Cazzote. Marie was the daughter of a dot com millionaire, Instead, of becoming politically active like a lot of trust fund babies, she became a devotee of art and artists. When Jordan had introduced us, we instantly bonded; both of us were lovers of country music, and she knew all the gossip in the art world. The three of us had gone in on a limousine to take us to the event. She also sat same table with us. I must say I felt pretty pleased with myself. I got a chance to wear my new red dress, and matching spike heeled scandals. Marie caught us up on all the latest goings on in the art world. Then she left, she had rounds to make, leaving Jordan and I alone at the table. Jordan with his fantastic artist's eye was describing the paintings on display. I actually felt sorry for the sighted people; I could not imagine seeing the paintings could be any better than the wonderful, passionate descriptions I was getting from Jordan. Jordan poured us both a glass of wine, as I reached, and took a drink, Jordan told me: "You know you reach for a drink, running your hand on the table until you have a gentle collision with the glass. Such a charming mannerism." I of course, instantly agreed, what else could I do? It was nice to know a man found my blind mannerism (blindisms) so adorable. I slipped my foot out of my new scandal and gently ran it up his leg. Needless to say I was pleased. In return I got a warm squeeze on the arm. Jordan was learning how to treat a blind chick. I was actually anxiously awaiting the unveiling. Jordan had given me such masterful descriptions I did not feel like the awkward blind chick at an art show. After the unveiling people came over to the table and talked, on one taking any notice of my blindness, of course, wearing dark glassed at night probably did not seem odd to the art crowd. It was a wonderful evening, which was good, since the immediate future was going to be unpleasant. Anyhow, the next week at work went well. My new T.A. Nora was doing an outstanding job, not even complaining about all the work I had dumped on her. I was still suspicious of her, she has not asked me any philosophy questions. Which seemed odd, of course I had not asked her, I was still thinking about Hugo and Kroll. I knew my part was not over. I was doing research on glamours. It seems the illusions produced by glamours followed John Locke's division of primary and secondary qualities. Glamours do not affect primary qualities: size, shape, motion, number, and solidity. These qualities are not affected by the illusions produced by glamours. At first I was a little surprised that number was a primary or tangible quality; a quality determined by touch. Until one night I was counting and organizing my shoes. I noticed to count my shoes I moved them from the uncounted pile to the counted pile. Showing number is indeed a quality understood by touch. Glamours only affect secondary qualities, like sight, and hearing. Could not find out anything about smell, or taste. Anyhow, I was not surprised when Steve showed up again at my office Tuesday evening; right before I was going to leave work. He settled into the chair opposite to me, I could tell from his greetings that even though he still did not trust me, he was becoming more comfortable around me. He told me: "The information you gave us led us to Nick Edwards. He was more than willing to talk; seems he is scared of Kroll. Edwards story matches the fantastic tale you told me. We have him in protective custody" . It always feels good to hear you are right. He continued in a pensive voice: "He told us Kroll wants to leave him without any memory. That Kroll is trying to strip everyone of memories that knows his true appearance. Would you mind talking to him? Since you seem to be the one person that can make some sense out of all this weirdness." I agreed. I knew my part was not finished in this affair. Anyhow, he took me to the safe house where the police had Edwards. It was in a run down neighborhood. Steve navigated me into the house, then into the room where Nick Edwards was seated. The room had thick carpeting dulling sounds, like I said when you are blind you get a feeling for rooms. This room seemed to be an ordinary bedroom. Steve got me a chair leaving me face to face with Edwards. Edwards them asked everyone to leave the room, he wanted to speak to me in private. Here is what he told me: "The P.R. Group was started as a front group for a Cthulhu Cult. I never met any or our shadowy backers, Kroll handled that. The Cult supplied the money and the agenda. The trouble started when Kroll decided he wanted out. He did not want to take orders from the Cult. He wanted to be free of the Cult. He knew the Cult would come after him. I guessing that is why you are involved." I gave an ambiguous reply, because I was still unsure what my was part in this drama. Edwards continued in a subdued tone: "This is why Kroll decided to get rid of all the people that could see through his glamour. It seems when he acquired the Carmilla dagger, he also acquired some sort of amulet engraved with the Elder Sign charged in such a way that it would hide its possessor from the Old Ones and their followers. Even though I have never had contact with the Cult; I want to stay loyal, but did not know where to turn. So when the police showed up I told them everything, and agreed to cooperate." Clearly Edwards saw me as an agent of the Cthulhu Cult. Which I guess I was. It seems when Hugo has me under mental domination he put some suggestions or orders into my mind. I heard myself saying: "You are now going to be put into direct contact with the Cult, give me you hand." He did. As I took his hand we made a mental connection. I was taking us into the dark dimension, it seems the big players wanted contact with Edwards. The trip into the dark dimension had its usual feeling of plunging down a roller coaster, but without the G. Forces. Once there, there were no Hounds to meet us. The Hounds are usually the first entities you meet in the dark dimension. They are always on watch for any intrusion into the dark dimension. Instead, there was a giant tentacle reaching out. Tentacles are of course, the calling card of Cthulhu and his followers. The tentacle reached into Edwards head, the message was for him alone. I was just an observer. Then it was over, and we were back in the ordinary bedroom of the safe house. Nick was the first to speak: "Thank you Necromancer, I understand what has to be done." Glad he did, because I was still confused. At that point Edwards called the police back in, he was through talking. One of the policemen navigated me out of the room. I asked: "Where is Steve?" The policeman answered in the usual efficient way they have of communicating: "He received a phone call. He went outside, he told me to take you out to him when the interview was over." Which he did. When we got out the door, the policeman hailed Steve and Steve hailed back. The policeman went back inside. Steve walked over to me, I could hear his footsteps which seemed strange, since I has not heard them before on the way here. He asked me: "How did it go?" I replied: "Did not get much on Kroll, or his whereabouts. Don't think he knows, everything else went alright, much as I thought Why don't you take me home, I am tired and there does not seem anything else to do now." He replied in a business like tone: "No problem, try again later." As soon as I took his arm I realized there was a beg problem. I knew things were wrong. The arm was in the wrong place for a man of Steve's height. This was the arm of a man much shorter, in fact shorter than me. I knew it was Kroll. I must really be a philosopher, because my first thought was not of the danger I was in, but Molyneux's Problem. My elation was short lived. I was put under an immediate psychic attack. He knew I recognized him. He spoke to me telepathically: "So you are who the Cult sent to find me. How pathetic a blind girl." I tried to scream, and run, but I could not. His mental attack was strong. He started escalating the pressure on me. I could not yell or move. I have found in dangerous situations a certain calmness comes over me. I knew I had to resist. I put up my psychic walls. After the surprise of his attack I began to resist successfully. Kroll attempt to dominate me was nothing compared to Hugo. Now I realized that Hugo had strengthened my psychic defenses. Kroll was getting angry that he was failing to dominate me. He again spoke to me telepathically: "You blind bitch (it seems I get called this a lot) you cannot hold out against me" The thing was I could I was making progress in breaking his attack and attempt to dominate me. He realized his hold on me was breaking. I could hear his mental voice: "Let us see how this bitch does against the Carmilla dagger." His assault lessened as he reached for the dagger. I could move again. He had the dagger, and was going to touch me with it. I reached for it, I was able to sense it not sure how. As soon as I grabbed the cross guard of the dagger, it must have acted as a beacon to Hugo. Kroll did not even realize what was happening, I to was unsure I could not tell what dimension we were in. Kroll was enveloped in Hugo's face tentacles. And they were gone. Hugo had taken Kroll to whatever Hell is reserved for those who try to betray Cthulhu. I found myself alone with the dagger, it was my payment for helping the Cult. I also knew Steve was in the car that brought us bereft of memories. Kroll had used the dagger on him, as well as tricking him with a glamour to come outside. I also knew how to restore his memories by using the dagger. It took me a several minutes to orient myself and remember where the car was. As my cane struck the car I heard Steve moan. It only took seconds for Steve to come around after I used the dagger to restore him. He was disorientated, he asked me in a weak confused voice: "What happened?" I replied: "It is all over Kroll is gone never to return, everything is alright." I was relieved. So here I am lounging on satin sheets at Jordan's house. Jordan invited me over for the weekend, which I accepted. I must say lounging in Jordan's bed with my lap top is a pleasant place to type up this case for my files. END