Part 1: The Test

 

I put the diary aside for a moment and picked up the yearbooks. 1991, Harvard Freshman Year. I leafed through the faces, looking for Linda Harper.

There. Page 47. A young woman with dark, curly hair and a reserved smile. Under the photo it said: Linda Harper, History. Cedar Rapids, Iowa.

Next to it, in the margin, someone had made small notes in pencil. David's handwriting, I recognized. SPACE - October? And below that: Alpha, Iota, Tau???

Alpha, Iota, Tau. These letters appeared repeatedly in the yearbooks, usually barely visible next to certain names. Greek letters: Α, Ι, Τ. Alpha, Iota, Tau.

No fraternity I knew of. No website, no entry in the university archives. I had checked before I could read on.

October 4, 1990

Eye doctor. Everything's fine, he says. Perfect vision. I didn't tell him about the colors. He would have thought I was crazy. Maybe I am.

October 29, 1990

It's getting worse. Not worse in the sense of worse, but... more intense. I no longer see just a glimmer. They are real colors. Auras, you might say, if you believe in such things. Every person has one. Some bright, some muted. Animals too—today I saw a dog whose aura was almost golden.

The strange thing is: I think I can sense something too. Not the colors themselves, but... what they mean? A feeling about the person. Their essence, perhaps? I don't know.

I always keep my distance from others now. That helps. When I get too close, it feels like I'm invading something that doesn't belong to me. Like reading someone's diary without asking.

The other students at my school probably think I'm arrogant or weird. Today someone called me “Ice Queen.” If only they knew.

January 15, 1991

Harvard accepted me! Early Decision! I can hardly believe it. All the work, all the years—it was worth it. I'll start in the fall.

The auras are normal for me now. I've learned to live with them. No one needs to know about them. It's my secret.

The diary then skipped several months, during which only study plans were entered. The next real entries were from September 1991, Linda's first semester at Harvard.

September 12, 1991

First day. I'm officially a Harvard student. My room is tiny, but it's MY room. My roommate's name is Sarah, she studies literature and talks non-stop.

The campus is full of auras. Thousands of them. It's overwhelming, but also... beautiful? So many different colors, patterns, intensities. I sometimes wonder if others see them too. But how could I find out without being thought crazy?

October 3, 1991

Something strange happened today. I was at SPACE—that cool bar near campus with futuristic decor but a cozy atmosphere, a place where students meet and talk instead of dancing. Sarah had dragged me there.

An older student—I guess a junior or senior—came straight up to me. “You see something, don't you?” he said. Just like that. I had no idea what he was talking about. Or pretended not to know.

He just smiled. “If you're ready to talk about it, we meet here every Thursday.” Then he left.

I don't know what to make of it.

October 17, 1991

I went. To SPACE, Thursday evening. The guy was there—his name is Marcus—and four others. Two women, two men, all a few years older than me.

We didn't talk much the first time. But the way they looked at me... they knew. They knew I see something others don't.

Marcus mentioned a word: “essence.” When I asked what that meant, he just shook his head. “Not here. Not now. But if you want to know more... we can help you understand.”

I got up and poured myself a whiskey. It had gotten dark outside. The diary lay open on my desk, Linda's neat handwriting illuminated by the lamp.

Essence. The word appeared more often later on. In David's notes in the margins of the yearbooks. In one of the newspaper clippings—an article about alternative medicine from the early nineties in which someone talked about “the essence of life.” David had underlined it.

What had he discovered here? And why had he never published anything?

I read on.

November 8, 1991

The meetings are becoming more regular. I'm learning more about what they call “essence” — a kind of energy, they say. Something that flows in all living things. Most people never feel it. Some develop a sensitivity to it, like me. And very few can use it, amplify it, shape it.

My ability—seeing auras—is just one of many possible manifestations. Marcus can influence moods when he concentrates. None of them can fly or anything like that. They are always natural human abilities, only... amplified. Like a person who has a good memory by nature but develops a photographic one through essence. Or someone with good eyesight who can suddenly see for miles.

It's reassuring to know that I'm not crazy. That there are others like me.

December 2, 1991

Marcus talked about a “community” today. He was vague, but I understand that there are more people than just our little group. A kind of... network? Organization? He didn't name names.

“If you're interested,” he said, “there are ways to get more involved. Training. Understanding. Fellowship with others who are going through what you're going through.”

I said I'd think about it.

January 23, 1992

They invited me. Officially.

An invitation on heavy, cream-colored paper, delivered by hand. No names, just three Greek letters: Alpha Iota Tau

There's a test, he said. Everyone has to take it. He wouldn't say what to expect. “It's... not pleasant,” he finally said. “But necessary. We need to know you're trustworthy. That you can keep what needs to be kept.”

The test is in two weeks.

I'm scared. But I'm also curious. What is this Alpha Iota Tau really? Who is behind it?

The next entries were shorter, more nervous. Linda prepared for the test without knowing what it was. Marcus and the others gave her cryptic advice: “Trust no one but us.” “No matter what happens, don't say anything.” “Remember: It will pass.”

Then, on February 7, 1992, the diary suddenly stopped.

The next entry was two weeks later. The handwriting was hasty, smudged in places, as if she had been crying while writing.

February 21, 1992

I don't know where to start.

They arrested me. Not really, as I now know, but at the time it felt real. Everything felt real.

It was morning. I was on my way to class. Two police officers approached me and grabbed my arm. “Linda Harper? You have to come with us.” I asked why. They didn't say anything.

At the police station, they accused me of being part of... I don't remember exactly what they said. A cult? A criminal organization? They had photos of me with Marcus and the others. They knew about the meetings at SPACE.

“What can you tell us about these people?” they asked over and over again. “What do you do at these meetings? What special abilities do you or your friends have?”

I said nothing. I remembered Marcus' warning.

They locked me in a cell. With two other women who harassed me from the start. Aggressive, frightening questions. One threatened me. The other tried to interrogate me—pretending to be friendly, but her aura was cold, calculating.

Three days. Three days in that cell. The interrogations continued. They got tougher. They threatened me with charges, with prison, with everything possible. But I said nothing.

Then, on the fourth day, they just let me go. No explanation. No apology. Just, “You can go now, Ms. Harper.”

- to be continued -

 

Editor's note: The identity of “Linda Harper” has been changed to protect her privacy. Some details have also been modified. The existence of the organization described has not yet been independently verified. If you have any information about Alpha Iota Tau, please contact the author at [protected contact details].