Fractal Phantasms

Fractal Phantasms : The Coming of the Tarsiers







It began with a bizarre series of sightings in a small town in western Maine. People began seeing things that would appear and then suddenly disappear. Each such event was preceded by a popping sound and what seemed to be a high pitched squeal. The first occurrence was in the middle of Sunday service at the First Methodist Church of Portland. The choir was well into a stirring rendition of “Nearer My God To Thee”, when directly above the head of the choir director appeared an apparition, visible only for an instant. Then POP! Squeal....it was gone. The congregation gasped, the choir stumbled and the director carried on, blissfully unaware that anything had happened. He was listening to the ball game on his pocket radio and waved his arms and smiled throughout.



A few minutes later in a small specialty grocery store, patrons were treated to a repeat performance. What was most astonishing was that the offending “it”, raided the cans of gourmet grasshoppers and chocolate covered ants, then POP! Squeal...it was gone too. The manager, hearing screams from one of his favorite aisles, raced to see what had happened. The year before an elderly woman, outraged by the price of pickled herring, had spit her teeth into the adjacent aisle and made a similar noise. Arriving on the scene however, people would only point into the air and say...”It had big eyes”. The manager scratched his head, thinking to himself that maybe some of his customers had been drinking a bit early in the day, shrugged his shoulders and ordered a cleanup in aisle 3.





It wasn't long before the “Little Bug Eyed Galoots” as one colorful resident described them, were being seen everywhere. No one was quite sure what to make of them or even if they were really seeing anything at all. The authorities were baffled and when they consulted the State University for some help, the Professor that took the call listened patiently and mentioned that perhaps their drinking water supply had been contaminated with Vodka. Finding no help in the halls of academia, the local police merely logged the incidents reported to them...until one day...





The Chief of Police was walking along a stream, taking his aging Beagle, Clairmont for his morning walk. Suddenly as old Clairmont stopped to do his business, something popped into existence directly on the Chief's head, snatched his hat right off and POP! Squeal...disappeared. Clairmont, distracted by the appearance, pooped on his master's right shoe. The Chief hardly noticed. For as his hat was being snatched off his head, he'd gotten a good look at the thing. And he'd really liked that hat...now it was personal.





Chief Ralston had been born in Iowa and moved to Maine as a young boy and fallen in love with the scenery. He became a policeman right out of High School and within 10 years was made Chief. But right now he wasn't thinking like one. He was tired of the nuisance creatures that had invaded his patch of bucolic heaven...and he'd just lost his best fishing hat. Dragging Clairmont by the leash, he stormed into the station and bellowed, “Joe, Ben, get out here! He dropped Clairmont's leash and reached for a paper towel to wipe the mess from his shoe, noticing that for the first time in ages, it actually had a shine on it.





Joe and Ben came running, both talking at once. “There was one of those things in the break room Chief, not five minutes ago!” Ben said. “It was clinging to the paneling and tapping it with a long finger, then POP! Squeal....gone.” Joe added “And it took the bag of muffins I brought in too”. Slowing his mind down, Chief Ralston rubbed his chin and said, “Joe, you get me all the reports we have about these things. I want them in the order they were received, with times of appearance noted. Ben, you get that Professor at the University back on the phone...I have a detailed description I want to relate to him. Vodka in the water indeed. Oh and Joe, do a search net-wide to find out if there are any other reports of this kind of thing happening. I have a strange feeling”.



Twenty minutes later, Chief Ralston hung up the phone after talking again with the Professor. After hearing the Chief's description, he'd checked the catalog and sure enough, he'd found a match. It was a Tarsier, a small, usually nocturnal primate. Arboreal, they were insect eaters...but they didn't live in Maine...in fact, they were darned near extinct in the wild. “Now you're sure that's what you saw?” he'd asked incredulously. “It snatched the hat right off my head mister, you're darned tootin' I'm sure!” The Professor had promised to begin research on the phenomena immediately and get back to him. Just then Joe called, “Reports are up on your monitor Chief. And you were right, this seems to be happening everywhere.”



It turned out that the very first report of something unusual had happened at the first fusion plant that had come online just 8 months before. Promising to rid man of the need to burn anything to produce power, fusion had delivered. And the system had been created to send it's power not through lines but through the air. Nicola Tesla had envisioned this more than a century before, but only now had it become a reality. Homes, businesses, hospitals, airports, every conceivable structure and service was now run on broadcast power. Even the vehicles they used for transportation were all run the same way. The first report stated that when the system had been energized, the technicians had seen something “strange”. But there had been no follow up.





The Chief poured over the growing list of reports, not only from the locals but from all over the country. Everywhere it seemed these “little devils” as they had been dubbed by the media, popped in and out, there was mischief of some sort. No one had been hurt, but there were reports of odd items being taken. A hunter from Michigan had his trophy antlers stolen from the wall of his den. A woman in Colorado had an entire line of laundry disappear in front of her eyes. And during a hot dog eating contest in San Antonio Texas, fully 60 pounds of wieners were snatched. None of this made any sense to the Chief, much less anyone else. Where had these things come from? What did they want? Besides fishing hats and hot dogs?





The next few days saw the number of incidents increase and the national media was having a field day. They commented on how ineffective the response of the authorities had been to something that on the face of it, seemed comical but had exposed a possible vulnerability. For example, one incident had occurred on post at Fort Dix, when during the height of early morning mess a startled table of service men had witnessed the purloining of all the flatware from their table. A tiny creature suddenly appeared, grabbed the goodies and POP! Squeal...vanished. One of them said that it had looked something like one of his relatives.





Every zoo in the nation housing Tarsiers was ordered to place them in an area where they could be observed constantly, fearing that there was some sort of Tarsier revolution afoot. The Tarsiers merely went about their business and one frazzled zoo employee in San Diego admitted that while they were cute, she would much rather be watching paint dry. After a few days, this was discontinued as none of the captive Tarsiers did anything but eat, evacuate and make little Tarsiers. Frustrating as it was, it was indeed a dead end. Chief Ralston kept abreast of the nation wide developments...and noted with a grin that there was a report of one of the Little Devils snatching the blotter right out from under the nose of a New York City desk sergeant.





The academic and research community was cranked up and working feverishly to figure out what was happening. No one could come up with a satisfactory explanation until a few electrical workers reported that they'd been seeing strange things for decades around high tension lines and power substations. Most had been loathe to report anything, seeing as when they'd told some of their co-workers, they'd been laughed at roundly and accused of drinking on the job. Now it was a different story.





The incidents continued unabated. A dairy farmer's wife in Wisconsin reported that something had appeared in her kitchen, grabbed the fresh rhubarb pie she had cooling on the window sill and POP! Squeal...was gone. It was the third time that week. A news anchor in Philadelphia had his tie...apparently a clip on...ripped from his collar on air. The Tarsier had latched onto his face, planted a kiss on his forehead, taken the tie and then POP! Squeal...disappeared...to the delight of everyone watching.





But the last straw was when the President of the United States, visiting a farm in Nebraska, had an ear of corn taken from his very hands as he was about to bite into it. The Secret Service stood like statues as the tiny creature grabbed the ear of corn, capered around the table for a few seconds then POP! Squeal...well, you know. Immediately following this action, six agents flung themselves onto the table, sending local dignitaries, members of the press and an impressive amount of corn flying everywhere. The President was good natured about it, saying he probably didn't need the butter anyway.





The very next day, the government began compiling lists of things being taken, in the hopes that this would give them a clue as to the Tarsier's motivation. The list was as impressive as it was random. One curious pattern did however take shape. Every area of the country had been hit, but it seemed there was more or less something that was being taken more often than anything else. Where there were insects being raised for one reason or another, the Tarsiers had struck repeatedly. Grasshoppers, crickets, flies, beetles, caterpillars...these all seemed to be prime targets of the mysterious creatures.





On the other hand, the incredible list of other things was baffling. Several hundred women's shoes...only the right ones...had been taken, leaving the owners to hop around on one foot and yell for help. Cab drivers all across the country found their licenses snatched...and in the only reported incident of such a thing...the offender had left a “present” on the seat next to the driver. Carefully collected, the substance was analyzed and sure enough, it was precisely what it appeared to be...Tarsier poop. In one dollar store in Greensboro North Carolina, an entire rack of yellow pinwheels was stolen. A 9 year old boy, reaching to take one, had witnessed the Little Devil appear out of nowhere, smile at him and then take the pinwheels. Then POP! Squeal...it and they were gone. The boy was delighted. His mother, standing close by, fainted. A nearby employee had run to aid the fallen shopper and when she came to moments later, all she said was...”It smiled”. The manager, a put upon gentleman by the name of Ralph, trudged back into his office to order more pinwheels. If it wasn't one thing, it was another.





The most noteworthy incident however, was when in the midst of a meeting of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, a Tarsier appeared, grabbed the good conduct ribbons of every single Chief...and POP! Squeal...needless to say, this didn't come out until much later. The President ordered a congressional commission formed and Washington in their usual way, began to ponder the question of the Tarsiers and what it all meant. In the meantime, the halls of academia had a sneaking suspicion that they knew the answer.





Chief Ralston, walking by the quiet stream he took Clairmont to every morning, was again the witness to a Tarsier visitation. Only this one was different. The creature popped into existence right before him. Clairmont bayed and peed but stood firm. And then something strange...the Tarsier standing on the ground was joined by a box of yellow pinwheels...and then POP!

Squeal...left...the pinwheels however, stayed behind. This incident was not to be an isolated one. Chief Ralston stooped to pick up the pinwheels and as Clairmont finally stopped baying his dismay, turned and headed in to the station. He didn't know what to make of this development but on the bright side, he did have a box of yellow pinwheels.





“Morning Chief, whatcha got there?” asked Ben as the Chief walked in, dropped Clairmont's leash and stood pondering the pinwheels in his hand. “One of the Little Devils left them on the ground in front of me. I don't know where they came from, but I'm sure someone is missing them. Check the list of items taken recently. I'll bet you'll find them there”, he said setting them on Ben's desk. Clairmont had gone to lay down in his favorite corner as usual, but with a more wary look about him. He didn't want one of those pesky things to sneak up on him again. “On it Chief” replied Ben and then added, “You had a call from that professor at the University...wants you to call him back.”





The professor answered Chief Ralston's call quickly and in an excited voice began to explain. “I've been in touch with all my colleagues and literally dozens of experts in all disciplines including theoretical physics and we think we've come up with an idea of what's going on. Since you were the person who brought all this to my attention, I thought you'd like to know before we go public. It seems as if with the advent of broadcast power, the frequencies that we use and the amount of power generated at any one time, have opened what amounts to a dimensional portal. We think these creatures are coming from a fractal dimension not too far removed from our own. As to why they are stealing things, we are not sure.”





Chief Ralston took a deep breath and said, “It would seem that they may be starting to bring it all back. I just saw one and it left a box of yellow pinwheels on the ground in front of me before it disappeared. Something tells me everything they took will be returned soon...perhaps not to the place where it was taken, but definitely returned.” The professor was quiet, considering this revelation then said, “Interesting, I will inform my colleagues and the government. Perhaps this will all be over soon.” Looking over at Clairmont, Chief Ralston said, “I certainly hope so for my Beagle's sake. I'm not sure he can take any more visits.” Clairmont raised his head at the mention of his name and growled as if warning off the next Little Devil that thought about coming around. After all, he was a watch dog. It didn't matter that he was half blind, deaf in one ear and sometimes incontinent, he still had a job to do. Grrrrrrrr....................................................................................





Reports began coming in from all over the country. Things had started appearing just as mysteriously as they had been disappearing. In Madison Wisconsin, an auto parts store was suddenly inundated with women's shoes...all right ones. A Tarsier was seen dancing around the huge pile of footware. Store clerks gave chase, but the creature bounded out of their reach and POP! Squeal...vanished. Interviewed moments later by a local reporter, the store manager stated that he really didn't know what to do with all the shoes. “Maybe we should donate them to some organization that collects shoes for one legged women”. The female interviewer hearing this, drew her hand across her throat and marched off. She

was heard to mutter as she left, “Idiot”.



A Harvard English Professor, preparing his latest series of lectures on 19th century English literary orthodoxy, suddenly found himself covered in women's undergarments...mostly thongs...complete with clothespins and line. As he flailed about to free himself from the offending line of thongage, a pair of his colleagues entered his office and one, upon witnessing his dilemma, mentioned that this was the last time he was going to cover up his friends' apparent fascination with women's panties. The professor sputtered helplessly as his colleagues left to spread the word. Just then, a Tarsier leapt onto his desk, winked at him and POP! Squeal...left.



The President of the United States, relaxing as best one can in such a stressful position, was sitting with his feet on his desk in the Oval Office. Without warning, a deer's head, complete with a 16 point rack of antlers appeared in the middle of the desk, causing him to yank his feet from off it as the

Secret Service agents stationed there, keenly aware that they had been embarrassed during the Nebraska Debacle, launched themselves at the offending object. Their hope was to surround it as well as corral the creature they were certain was not far behind. Three met at the deer's head simultaneously...two of them smacked their heads together as the third, charged with putting himself between anything and the President, darn near impaled himself on an impressive point closest to the Commander in Chief. Just at that moment, a Tarsier appeared, danced on the two groggy Secret Service agents, grabbed the ears of the nearly impaled one, nodded at the President and POP! Squeal...left the building.



Not far away, avid watchers of C-Span were treated to another Tarsier visitation. An overbearing, stuffed shirt of a Senator from Texas was holding forth on the evils of green technology and how it would wreck the economy of his state when two Tarsiers appeared on either side of him, followed immediately by a rain of hot dogs. Fully 60 pounds of the tube encased “meat” pelted the Senator, knocking him to his knees and burying him up to his neck in wienies. The Tarsiers cackled, stuffed two of the hot dogs into his nostrils, waved to the transfixed members in attendance and POP! Squeal...they were gone. After removing the hot dogs from his nostrils and recovering some of his dignity, the Senator proposed a resolution banning Tarsiers from all future prescence in the Senate. Rival Senators from across the aisle opposed the measure and offered one of their own. It would institute the first annual Tarsier Wienie Roast on the steps of the Capital. The measure passsed with only one dissenting vote.



Perhaps the most inventive and impressive incident occurred in St. Petersburg Florida at Tropicana Field. Workers there, arriving to begin preparations for a double header that day, found when they opened the doors to the stadium that they couldn't enter. They were confronted with a solid wall of socks. The stadium it seemed, had been stuffed from field level to the top of the roof with mismatched footies. The team, arriving soon after, was treated to the sight of a line of Tarsiers dancing in front of the stadium clad in tiny souvenier helmets and carrying little bats. One jumped on the head of the manager and began tapping with it's long finger. Apparently finding nothing of interest there, it licked both lenses of his glasses, back flipped off his head to a perfect two point landing and along with the other Tarsiers, waving their little bats...POP! Squealed...and disappeared. Authorities arriving soon after, speculated that every sock that had ever vanished from every dryer in the country had been stuffed into the spacious confines of the home of the Tampa Bay Rays. Interviewed later, the manager laughed and said, “It was the darndest thing I've ever seen. I have to admit though, the little guys had a pretty good swing.”



The scientific community finally had the answer to how the Tarsiers had been showing up. Apparently the frequency at which the fusion plants operated had opened doors from a fractal dimension very close to our own, allowing the little devils to pop in and out at their leisure. It was a simple matter they said to only slightly change that frequency and the visitations would stop. However, they noted that this would take up to six weeks. The President ordered the National Academy of Science to get on the job post haste.





One by one, the fusion plants were adjusted and one of the first to be completed had been the one in Maine. Chief Ralston, walking old Clairmont, whose nerves had been visibly shot during the whole affair, watched as the aging Beagle sniffed and defecated, sniffed and peed, and stood tensely testing the air with his nose. He hadn't been the same since this all started. Continuing their walk along the stream, not twenty feet in front of them appeared a Tarsier. Chief Ralston stopped and Clairmont, seeing a chance to impress his master with his ferocity, began to bay at the small creature while pulling heavily on his leash. Next to the Tarsier appeared a bag of Clairmont's favorite dog food. As they both watched, the Tarsier ripped open the bag and knocked it over, spilling Clairmont's favorite yummies on the ground. Confused, but only momentarily, Clairmont forgot all about the Tarsier, yanked his leash from Chief Ralston's hand and headed for the kibble. The Tarsier danced in a circle, bowed deeply and POP! Squeal...vanished into thin air. The Chief scratched his head, watching Clairmont scarf the gifted dog food. “You're going to get fat if you keep eating like that boy”, he opined then noticed something laying on the ground next to the bag. He walked over and reached down to pick up...his favorite fishing hat. Everything was still on it and he shook his head, wondering why they'd brought only his hat back to where it belonged....