Anyway, I was asking about a manuscript he’d given me. I returned it to him with some notes. Not sure if he intended it as a story or as his prophetic vision. Hard to tell with Kafti.
Story says that in the year 3011, the Glorious Next arise— successors of humankind, gigantic, luminous beings. They come from deep beneath the sea, where they have been sleeping. Subjugate humankind. Not subjugate, exactly. Kafti says it’s a relationship we slide into naturally with them, since they are greater and we are like lower order beasts to them. Human race performs menial tasks, manual labor for the Glorious Next, inheritors of the planet.
Sounds a lot like Lovecraft so far, but I pressed Kafti along those lines, and he never mentioned Cthulhu et al., and those names didn’t seem to mean anything to him. Zilch.
Kafti went into a sort of trance-like state, and I thought he might be done for the night, but then he sat straight up and said more. He was talking now — this wasn’t in the manuscript. In 4064, a meteorite brings a virus to Earth that wipes out the human race. The Glorious Next are desperate, because they’ve become dependent on us in so many ways that their survival is now threatened.
The key to solving their problem lies in a possibility for time travel they’ve discovered. It’s very limited, a natural phenomenon over which they have no control, though they can make use of it. Because of alignments of stars and responsive energies within the Earth, “windows” open briefly and in different places, through which matter can pass from the present to a specific different time and back again, so long as the “window” stays open. It only opens for nineteen minutes, Kafti says, and only one such “window” will do the Glorious Next any good.
As Kafti tells it, they have wiped the virus away; the Earth is safe for humankind again, but the Next need unspoiled, uninfected human tissue in order to regenerate our species. They can get it from the past — all they need is one of us, one specimen. All they need to do is snatch one of us through the nineteenminute “window” and drag that one back — forward, that is, through time — to the year 4064, after the virus is gone, but before the demise of their own species.
Here’s the part that’s awfully far-fetched: the only “window” from 4064 back into a time when the human race is alive and well opens into Pittsburgh. Kafti doesn’t know exactly where in the city or when, but he is convinced it will happen really soon. He’s dreaming about it every night.
Kafti doesn’t know why he has these visions, why he’s singled out to know the minds of the Glorious Next. But he’s sensitive — super-sensitive to such things, like a big radar dish turned up to eleven, like those ones SETI had in the desert, listening for whispers from space. He says that the Next can’t afford to waste their opportunity. Just nineteen minutes, and the “window” might not open in a place where there are people around, usually. So he thinks they might be calling somehow— calling across time. How they could do that is anybody’s guess, but just because we can’t imagine how doesn’t mean they can’t do it, right? They’re greater than us in the way that we’re greater than fleas. Maybe a lot greater than that. He thinks they might be calling a person from our time, from around here, to come to just the right place and moment when the “window” will open, and WHAMMO! Venus’s flytrap, open and shut.
Kafti got a bit paranoid then. He was worried that the Glorious Next might be on to him — the Abyss looking back and all that. They’ll want to cover their tracks. They’ll call one human to come to them, but they won’t want any others to know. They’ll sweep up after themselves. Not that there’s a thing we could do to stop them, even if we all knew what they were up to. I thought about Kafti’s paranoia, his fear of being swept away for knowing. I said, “Thanks for telling me all this” and called him an asshole. We had a laugh.
Weird shit. Very, very weird.
I snagged some of Mike’s moonshine for Kafti and me. We had a discussion about whether this vision of his, if it’s true, is a good thing or a bad one. Should we hope these monsters fail to abduct one of us? It’s nonconsensual, of course, a life lost here, and the continued enslavement of our species in the far-distant future.
But it’s survival, too, isn’t it? It’s our human race going on, overcoming our extinction with help from our masters. Without them, the virus would have killed us, end of story, bam. Or will kill us…pick a verb tense that helps to sort it out. And here’s the thing: if we survive then, even as bugs, even as slaves, we might one day get the upper hand again. We’ve had it before. In fact, wouldn’t you be honored if you were the chosen and called? You’d be like a new Adam. The Next would treat you well, wouldn’t they, because you were so important to their purpose? You might not really have to be a slave. What if you had a glimpse, away from all this, of the 41st century?
That’s why I’m into hypnosis and metaphysical stuff. I think there are things — realities — beyond what we can see, and we live like sheep. I think we need to take our blinders off, get our heads out of the sand. I like finding answers.
Before the night collapsed upon itself, Kafti and I ended up drinking to the Glorious Next, wishing them all the best.
Addendum by Detective David Colby: Michael Anthony Nagy and others present at the house mentioned here on the night of August 12 have been questioned extensively. The identity of “Kafti” and his whereabouts are undetermined. It is bewildering how little is known about him. No one seems to have met him more than a few times, and he is gone now. I would speculate that he was no more than a fictional creation of Jeremy Tuttle, save for the fact that Nagy and others attest that “Kafti” is an actual person. About 5’7”-5’9”, thin build, dark or olive complexion, dark brown wavy hair, pronounced accent. “From India, Nepal, Tibet, Pakistan, Bangladesh, Mongolia, the Middle East, or Texas”—that’s the consensus. Very helpful.
Transcript: assessment interview with patient Jen Bigelow by Dr. Neela Kaneda, Psy.D., September 20, 2022:
NK: You understand that our conversation is being witnessed by Detective Colby and recorded for review. Please say “yes” if that’s okay.
JB: Yes.
NK: If at any time you would like to stop, please let me know, okay?
JB: Okay.
NK: We want to help you get better. After what you experienced, your memories may not come back all at once. We’re trying to help you with that, all right?
JB: Okay.
NK: Now…I know you’ve been asked this a lot, but you’ve told the police that you never saw the man who assailed you— Jeremy Tuttle — before that night of September 9. Is that still correct?
JB: That’s correct.
NK: You were not his hypnosis patient?
JB: No.
NK: You weren’t having nightmares that you hoped he could help with — help get rid of?
JB: Huh-uh. No.
NK: You had never known him in any capacity? JB: No. Never.
NK: Okay. That’s fine. There’s water right here if you need it. This is not pleasant, I know, but could you tell me one more time about that night?
JB: Why? Oh — how many times do I…?
NK: I’m sorry. Sometimes there are memories that are like splinters that have to work themselves out. If you would, please. Take your time. Why were you on the stairs of Benton Avenue?
JB: Like I said, I don’t know. That night was a blur. I was on medication.
NK: The Anaprocil, for your depression?
JB: Yes. I was downtown with friends who went home, and somehow — I guess — I don’t know.
NK: You don’t know how you got to Beechview?
JB: No.
NK: Do you know what time it was? JB: No.