Cock-a-Doodle-Doom ☑️

Something to Crow About

Strangely this time I do not have much of a reaction. Is it because this is Domenica speaking? Am I getting used to people around me being into that kind of stuff? I feel like I'm ready to listen to whatever she has to tell me. God, I have such a crush on her.

I should be fair and warn her, though. "Hum," I say, "I'm OK with talking about that, just know that I am usually pretty skeptical about any and all... beliefs. Are you OK with that?"

Domenica smiles. If she kissed the hands she's holding right now I'd feel so much like a princess. Shut up. Focus.

"I don't mind," she says reassuringly. "It took me almost five years to come to terms with it, you don't have to agree, just to let me tell you a story. Can I continue?"

I nod.

Domenica sights in relief. "Truth is, in the field of archaeology like in many others, we come across a lot of phenomenons that I classify as supernatural, paranormal... Out of the boundaries of regular science. I mostly deal with sacred and ritualized settings, crafts and mythologies. Honestly, going into that kind of work without knowing of believing anything about the power of the artifacts you're manipulating is a bit suicidal."

I raise my hand tentatively. Domenica pauses. "I already have a question?" I say.

Domenica nods. "Go ahead."

"You make it sound like it's a well-known phenomenon in the scientific field, so I'm not a hardcore scientist but... How come I never heard about it? How come most science nerds I meet tend to completely debunk paranormal studies?"

I think what I'm saying over for a bit. "I'm not trying to win an argument here, I'm just being honest and trying to stay in the realm of what I understand, so that I can maybe understand you." Yeah, I never would have gone that far for Dave. Love stronger than logic? Gah.

Domenica stays level headed. She's not surprised by my objections. "Yeah... I think you probably heard about it and had it debunked like you said. See, while the theories are known, they are very much made fun of because... I don't know how to get into that without getting very nerdy."

"Try me," I say. I get a looks that seems to be dwelling on the double entendre.

"Yeah, so," she says, regaining focus. "One of the basics of the scientific method is reproducibility of results. If you know how something works, you can design a process that will test your theory and will give the expected result. Someone else can come along, build their own experiment and have the same outcome happen. That's science."

"OK, that's pretty clear," I say.

"The thing is, I became aware of the supernatural through personal experience. I first tried explaining it through psychology, natural sciences, questioning my sanity, whatever, but nothing really stuck. I was left trying to find out what was happening and the only explanations that seemed to fit all the criteria were... mystical, supernatural explanations. I have no idea how it all works, nor do I know how to reproduce the results and phenomenons that occur around me and the job, so I can't *science* it. But it's there. That's the kind of testimony I get from a lot of colleagues, so it's rather acknowledged, but at the same time, there is no proof to be found anywhere, so you can't present a paper on it and you get made fun of if you talk with someone who hasn't experienced it."

"What kind of 'phenomenon' are we talking about?" I say. "Is it something you can show?"

"That's the thing!" she says. "I can't. Every time I tried to record, analyze or even have someone just witness some kind of phenomenon, it didn't happen, like it was consciously avoiding analysis. Same with the others people who've encountered these things in their life. That's the point where you question your sanity." She thinks back on what she said. "Well, some of us are crazy for real."

She swipes a lock of hair away, thinking back on it. "Luckily, my grandmother was a sound, thoughtful woman and a good role model." She suddenly smiles at the thought. "I always made fun of her because she thought the actors in the telenovelas were talking to her, like, directly. I tried so many times to explain to her that it was impossible, right?"

She's getting really animated, talking about all this. I can only smile, imagining her having an impossible logical argument with her pigheaded grandma. Shit, I'm getting swept away again by her moods.

"So anyway," Domenica says, "on the topic of the TV talking to my grandma, she told me once that if it was a part of her life she had to deal with it anyway. I think her words were some old smart-ass saying, like... 'Arguing against water at the bottom of the pond'. Something like that."

She looks straight at me, calm. "I've been at the bottom of that pond, and I've decided I'd rather swim. If really there's no water, the joke is on me, I guess. That's sort of how I live now."

I don't have to agree with her, but I can easily recognize how much of herself she gave away by saying all this. She made herself vulnerable because she trusted me. I gently squeeze her hands and keep looking straight back.

After a while, I'm the one who breaks the silence. "So, the thing that's got you looking so distracted is *that*? A... phenomenon?"

She nods. "A place I've been studying for years. El Pollo. The sacred mountain."