Following the bust at the Chinese restaurant, business continued to grow. As we make our way to the current call, I listen to the radio since it is best to hear what the media's fascination with us is continuing to be a mostly positive view of our business, not that bad press would necessarily hurt us since the people who are most like to call are those seeing the events of a paranormal encounter for themselves.
So, the view of the media on our business would matter little in the decision to call us to deal with the issue that they can see for themselves. It's amazing how humans will always rely on their senses over what is being told to them. While it is possible to convince us humans that our senses are wrong, it takes considerable effort to convince us, and that only lasts until there is time for us to think.
It is times that Being X's idea to have people worship with nothing to go on besides faith is ridiculous. Never in all of our business do we have to convince our customers that ghosts are real since they will use their own experience over anything we say.
The biggest issue is convincing clients that the ghost is truly gone, which is why the warranty sale is so popular since the idea that a ghost would show up again or another spirit would manifest in their residency since it had before without understanding that for those that live residence where the number of people to have likely to have died is considerably low in comparison to the Sedgewick since a hotel is often frequent of accidents, deaths, and medical emergencies.
The possibility that a residence would have more than one ghost depends entirely on location. New York has a considerably long history of violence, but in comparison to anywhere in the old world, where just about all locations would have at least one violent death. While I have been working with the guys to publish their findings soon, it is difficult since the paper is getting considerably longer.
With each bust, notes are being added at a rate that is increasingly worrisome since the longer that we don't publish the paper, the likelihood that one of the few other parapsychologists in the world will have heard of what we have accomplished and be able to recreate our work but claim it. Luckily, Venkman has been on my side, pushing the completion of the paper.
Once we have established the first, we can start releasing the updates and continuation along with our patents. The tech can probably be studied to find all of the possibilities along with the effects the tech has on different fields. The main question is the effects on human biology. I want to know since I can feel that something is different with my connection to the ectoplasm compared to the feelings I have when in contact.
It reminds me of the mana from my previous life. I also seem to be regaining the spells that I had. Nothing truly useful but small spells or weaker versions, making the pack a little lighter, processing information quicker, or feeling warmer. I've also noticed that my P.K.E. scans fluctuate a bit more. Though it is always temporary and exhausts me more than ever, it is concerning since there should have been no way to bring it with biologically speaking anyway.
This body is new; it retains the information, but my senses learned in battle are dulled, and the traumas I had seem more like a movie I watched years ago. I recall the 203rd and my close allies, but my feelings for them have been disconnected. They are more like fictional characters. While I still feel bad for what happened to them, it's distant. I don't think of them as often as I once did.
In my first life, I felt no emotion at all to it, even the man who pushed me. I don't even hate or feel anything for him, yet I can recall the face he made, the rain and tears on him, and try as I might, I had no emotion for the 40 years of my first life, and my second is only that of a vague numb feeling. I guess that one philosopher was right that the current present will always be more real than the most vivid memory.
I thought I felt nothing in my first life because I did not express myself. Still, I know for a damn fact that I had a multitude of emotions in my second, proving that my lack of connection from my first has to do with the reincarnation process truly if I continue with this career after securing my soul's continuation with no memory similar in theory to the Gay Science that Nietchze proposed.
However, if I recall that theory, it was more of an idea that you repeat your life repeatedly without knowing so. However, it has been a long while since I've had a proper lecture on philosophy and how different philosophers thought of the afterlife. The reality of everything the only philosophers I enjoyed were that of economic philosophers, even the laughably nonsensical one of Karl Marx.
My thoughts returned to the presence when I heard Larry King's voice on the radio.
"Some maintain these professional paranormal eliminators in New York are the cause of it all." The radio said, causing Stantz to glance at everyone's reaction.
"Did you guys hear that Larry King is talking about us?" Stantz said, looking back at the road.
"Did you not hear the part where he suggested we were frauds, Ray?" Venkman said with a sigh.
"It doesn't matter; every time we appear in any medium, our business gains significant value," Spengler said, inputting more data into his charts.
"I think you're just sour you don't have your own radio show, Peter," Stantz said, nudging Venkman, causing the ecto to swivel a little.
"Eyes on the road, Ray," I said to Stantz.
"Surprised that you are talking about road safety since you drove without a license," Venkman said, attempting to avoid Stantz's comment.
"Not my fault that you guys keep forgetting I'm 14 years old." I snapped back.
"In our defense, you don't really act like any 14-year-olds we know," Venkman replied.
"How many teenage girls do you guys know?" I asked, knowing there were very few good reasons that didn't sound creepy.
"That sounds like a trap," Venkman said with narrowed eyes.
"Well, how many do you know?" I press.
"Alright, we only know you, but I don't recall any girl when I was that age knowing their way around tax laws and business structuring," Venkman said, attempting to point out the oddness that is me.
"Everyone's got hobbies," I said with a chuckle.
"Still doesn't explain why you didn't have anyone else drive." Venkman shot back.
"I sometimes forget that I'm also 14," I said nonchalantly. You tend to forget your age after being alive in some shape or form for over 150 years. I still have three different birthdays memorized along with my current one, which gets confusing, leading to me panicking every time I have to fill out my birthday forms. Luckily, I was born roughly around the same time as my first life. So, if my year gets messed up a bit, it's not too bad, but putting 1914 on a form leads to great confusion for everyone.
"How on earth do you do that? Like when I was little, I always knew how old I was," Venkman questioned me.
"My closest group of friends are in their 40s. How do you expect me to act." I shot back.
"Hey, I'm only 34, thank you very much," Venkman said, seemingly hurt.
The conversation continued as we headed to the job but ended when we arrived. The job was at the Rockefeller Center. According to what Jannine got on the phone, the ghost was on the ice in front of the golden statue. Sadly, though, due to the busyness of New York, we had to park a distance from it. The spot we got had a parking meter.
"Shit, how long will it take to deal with the bust?" Stantz asked.
"I don't know. It could take a while, Egon. What is the average time," I said, looking at Spengler.
"One of these days, I'm not gonna record some piece of data. Luckily, I know that. it takes about an hour for a bust on average, and it will more than likely take about 10 minutes to get from here to Rockefeller. That is both ways, so putting in for an hour and a half is best." Spengler said, looking up from a clipboard and putting it into Ecto.
"Who's got change?" Stantz looked up, looking around.
"I'm not even wearing pants under this, let alone a wallet," Venkman said, putting his pack on.
"I have some tweezers, a sample tray with mold, and a screwdriver," Spengler said with a hand in his pocket.
"I'm not wearing my coat," I said.
"I think there's some change around Ecto," Stantz said, opening the passenger door and looking through the seats.
"What type of screwdriver, Egon?" Venkman said looking at Spengler.
"A flathead, why?" Spengler asked, handing the screwdriver.
"I always hated doing this, but it's good in sticky situations," Venkman said, leaning over the meter before standing up, showing an hour-and-a-half timer.
"That'll work, but let's add the change anyway to the bill for compensation," I said, finishing getting the pack on.
Sure enough, the walk to Rockefeller took about 5 minutes. Once we got down to the ice rink, we chatted with the staff, trying to figure out what was happening and that they knew we would be there. Apparently, a few years ago, an Olympic skater was practicing and just enjoying skating. They met with another person attempting to get to the Olympics, leading to both trying to out-show each other on the rink.
The issue was that there were still a bunch of others skating, making it difficult, and while attempting a risky move, she bumped into some, leading to them losing control and landing on their neck, killing them instantly. Recently, since the rink opened this year, she has returned, attempting to do the trick successfully, but has been pushing the public to make room no matter how far they are away, along with cutting girls with figure skating outfits with her.
They called us since it was a lawsuit waiting to happen, and they did not want to make the Ghost do it as a defense in court. They hadn't yet because no one believed the girls' stories, and parents assumed it was because of the fall that would happen after the ghost cut them. We asked if they could close the rink due to the dangers of our work.
They agreed and got everyone off after about 20 minutes, though they still stayed around to watch "Ghostbusters," which was the growing interest of New York to see for themselves. Sure enough, as everyone left, we saw the ghost in question. It was probably a Class 5 at most, but they could keep the look from their life with a few differences.
The skater's head was not standing up the way it should. It was like she was attempting to look up but went too far. Her head seemed to look more like a backpack. Her clothes were nice. She was in a skin-tight, glitter-infused outfit with a small little bit of a clear dress tail that sparkled like the Aurora borealis trailing behind. Then the skater spun, and her neck stretched out like a helicopter.
The neck stretched, seeming to tear as the weight of her head was breaking the limit of her skin, but as she ended her spin, the head continued and ended with her head in her chest and the neck retracted back, no longer seeming to tear off at any moment. From what I could see of her face, she was dolled up, and with the condition of her body, she most likely died near her 20s, whether before or after. I couldn't tell.
She then did a turnaround, leading to her head swinging onto her back. If it were not for her head and neck, it would be memorizing to watch, but her tricks just looked wrong and disturbing to watch. I looked at the guys, hoping they could devise a good plan.
"What the plan?" Stantz said looking at Venkman.
"I just thought we could just go on the ice, throw the trap, and wait for her to skate into it," Venkman said.
"But how do we make sure that she will go to the trap? She could avoid it," Stantz said.
"We should have someone on the Ice then to lure her in." As I said this, I could feel the guys looking at me.
"No!" I said, looking at them.
"But it makes the most sense. She was competing against another Olympian. So, to trigger the Psychokinetic memory, it will trigger a response leading to it being entirely focused on you, allowing for an easy flanking by us." Stantz said.
"But I don't even know how to skate," I responded, which was a lie. One of the few dates I went on was a skating date and did pretty well. She taught me how to do some basic tricks.
"It's not difficult to keep your knees bent, make a T with your feet, and push off," Venkman said.
"Well, if you know how to skate, why don't you do it." I snapped.
"It would be better if someone. That is close to the cause of death to enrage the ghost." Spengler said.
"Okay, then Venkman could pretend to be the person that caused the accident. She pushes people to make room, so it would only stand to reason that someone like Peter would cause more anger by taking up space on her precious rink." I said, hoping they would see reason.
"True, but that does not explain why the cuts of figure skating seem to be more personal," Stantz said.
"But that means I would need a figure skating outfit," I said, hoping there would be no way they could get one.
Venkman then turned his head to the staff and asked, "Got any figure skating outfits in her size?"
After a moment of the desk attendants looking me up and down, they said, "Yeah, I think we do in the lost and found there's a changing room over there.
"Yeah, no, to hell with that," I said, walking to the rink.
"You're no fun kid," Venkman said, catching up to me.
"Here is my plan. We each take a corner, go over the boards, and then close the distance, trapping it in the center where Stantz throws the trap and captures it. If it tries to make a break, use a capture stream to stop it and keep it off of each of us to keep it trapped before the bust." I said, pointing each to which corner they should go.
"How do you know that the ghost won't try to fly over us," Venkman said.
"Well, it seems to be repeating its same tricks," I said.
"Meaning that the Ghost has Psychokenetic trauma making it think it can't and with the closeness to its human form meaning its more of a whisper," Stantz finished.
"You guys spend too much time with your nose in books," Venkman muttered as we began to split to the corners.
"And you spend too little time," I said.
We got to each of the corners and waited. I jumped over the board while it was halfway through the rink, meaning it shouldn't noticed for a few moments. As I make it over, the guys make it over the board, and the ghost turns around and spots me. The skater stops, grabs its head from its chest, and lifts it up to look at me, where it gives a screeching warning of "NEED SPACE" before dropping its head back into its chest and then skating full speed towards me.
I fire the stream at the ice between it and me, melting and cracking it. The ghost turns to avoid the crack of water in the ice, allowing it to see where Venkman is and use its momentum to bolt toward Venkman. As it got closer, Spengler, Stantz, and I were inching closer toward the center, with me stepping over the water crack I made in the ice.
Venkman blasted the stream at its head, holding it while the body continued with it, turning its body, jumping, and attempting to cut Venkman with its ice skate blade, but the neck seemed to be at its limit and pulled the body back in the nick of time. Venkman cut the stream as it attempted to regain its momentum. It spins seeing Stantz and Spengler, who were getting very close to Venkamn and me. The ghost made a low turn, staying low as it sped up to Spengler before switching to Stantz.
"Stantz, Throw the trap when it gets close," I shouted.
Stantz knowing what to do, threw the trap towards the ghost as it tried to swing its head at Spengler, and as its head swung over the trap, Stantz pressed the switch throwing open the trap and sucking it in the head instantly, but its body resisted.
"Zapp it!" Spengler said, throwing a stream on the ghost.
Venkman and I followed and threw it into the Trap. The trap closed as it steamed. I ran towards it and slid to pick it up. To verify the heat the trap produced wouldn't melt the ice. The trap is still an active prototype, so it is best to be on the sign of caution with ice. With that, we headed off the ice to some happy staff and some conflicted watchers.
"Say, what time is it?" I asked as we passed the staff.
The staff told us the time, and we realized we had about 5 minutes to get to Ecto before we got a ticket. So we bolted out of there. I'm so glad I didn't have to wear the outfit the staff had in the lost and found. It was a bright pink outfit with a frilly Tutu. This job is bad as is. I don't even want to imagine if I agreed to such a stupid idea. However, I was glad about how well this bust went compared to the first one.