Acts of Violet(69)
As I pull into the gravel driveway, I find Volk on her front porch, feet up on the railing. She’s poring over a thick stack of papers and greets me, hugging the manuscript to her chest like a shield.
I ask what she’s reading, and her face takes on a reverent look. “It’s not coming out until next year, but my editor got me an advance copy.” She rifles through the stack to find the title page: Higher Dimensions: A Journey Through Quantum Immortality, Elevated Consciousness, and Parallel Worlds.
“Just some light reading, then,” I say. Considering physics is the only class I ever failed in high school, it looks like something that would give me a headache if I tried to read it. I tell her as much.
“I could never get my head around physics, either, but this doesn’t feel like homework, it’s more like you’re sitting next to someone brilliant at a dinner party, and he’s blowing your mind. Anyone who’s ever watched Star Trek or Doctor Who could get into it.”
Before I can verify whether Volk is a Trekkie and/or Whovian, she continues her impassioned rave.
“I’ll be honest: the philosophical/existential stuff in here is easier for me to grasp—that we’re all part of an infinite chain of energy expansion and reallocation. The more scientific ideas tie my brain into pretzels—in the best possible way.” She laughs. “I get the concepts on an instinctual level, but it still frustrates me how much we don’t know. Like dark matter. Do you know about dark matter?”
Much as I wish I could answer affirmatively, I confess I do not.
“Let’s go around back and I’ll tell you all about it.”
It’s ten in the morning and I wasn’t expecting a conversation about theoretical physics with Violet Volk.
While I’m curious to see her downsized digs, she doesn’t offer a tour, and instead leads me around the side of the house to a canopied terrace overlooking the water, where we take a seat at the picnic table. She sets the manuscript off to the side and tosses a sweatshirt over it as a makeshift paperweight.
If it wasn’t for her signature glittering red lipstick, I wouldn’t recognize the woman sitting before me as Violet Volk. Not that I expected her to show up to the interview in a sequined catsuit, but even in tabloids, I’ve never seen her wear something as casual as a sleeveless white T-shirt and black jeans. Her combat boots have been swapped for a pair of Chinese mesh slippers, her elaborate updos ditched in favor of a sloppy bun, and her typical smoky eyes are makeup-free, though eclipsed by sunglasses for the majority of our conversation. You could mistake her for a cute barista or art teacher before registering her as one of Generation X’s favorite pop culture icons. The pared-down look makes her appear even more youthful than her twenty-eight years, and there’s something different about her demeanor. Something less tightly wound and more relaxed and contemplative.
Her husky voice fills with enthusiasm as she returns to the topic at hand. “Okay, so dark matter. It makes up the majority of our universe—like ninety percent—but we can’t see it and don’t even know what it is. It’s just this big sphere of … something that weighs ten times more than our galaxy. How do we know it’s there? Because our galaxy spins so damn fast, it would be blown apart if dark matter wasn’t there to keep it together. What’s it made of? One theory says dark matter is made up of sparticles, which sounds like something you’d call a doo-wop band in ancient Rome, but they’re actually subatomic super particles. Did I mention these particles are also hypothetical? I know, it’s insane, and we haven’t even gotten into supersymmetry and string theory, which hint at other layers of reality. Now we get to the good stuff. As soon as parallel worlds are mentioned, I’m all, ‘Hurry up and figure out a way we can visit them.’ The bummer of it is, only gravity particles can travel between universes, not light or matter, so neither of us are getting on that guest list. At least, that’s what physicists claim, but this book suggests there’s a way to tap into a universal consciousness and actually explore other dimensions. Though I still don’t think it’s giving up the full story.”
The armchair psychologist in me wonders if this interest in alternate realities is Violet’s way of coping with the personal and professional setbacks she’s faced in this one. When I ask where this newfound curiosity has come from, she’s quick to correct me.
“It’s not new, it’s something I’ve been interested in for years. Anyway, you didn’t come to hear me babble on about this stuff.”
I didn’t, but I’m not sure I want her to stop.
Despite being more easygoing, there are still topics she will not discuss, namely, her personal life. Any questions about her family or romantic relationships are off-limits.
“This one’s lemonade and this one’s water. Which would you like?” She points between two silver pitchers laid out between us, along with two ceramic mugs. I go with water, and before I can inquire if this is part of a new act, she quips, “I’m not practicing material on you, I’m just offering you a drink.”
We laugh politely, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed. I’ve never had the pleasure of witnessing Volk’s conjuring live, so it would’ve been something special to experience, especially close up. If, say, she turned the lemonade into iced tea or filled the water with fish. Maybe there’s a parallel universe where I get to see some of her impromptu magic today.