A month or two after the whole Roe Bro Show thing happened, I opened YouTube up, only to see my face in a thumbnail. I was a little confused. The show had given us some notoriety here and there. We had grown in popularity some. We had a lot more subscribers and that was pretty cool. But really, I did not know how to deal with it. My parents and I had spoken. My dad watches The Roe Bro Show. He apologized and said that maybe there was something to what I was saying. He also was creeped out by the fact that he had met my ghost. And that I was dating her. That's fine. There's not much I can do about that. But I was not really expecting it to last this long. It was so exhausting, honestly. People had asked for more interviews and wanted to know more about Lona and I. More about Karen. More about Vic and Sara. And honestly, I do not think anyone was expecting it to be this big of a thing. I know I certainly was not.

There had been a couple of videos made about us and a lot of them calling us frauds or fakers. This video looked much the same. It was forty-five minutes long which is longer than most. It had my face and some fan art someone had made of Lona that had gone around. I retweeted it because, even if it did not look like her, it was well done. The thumbnail had FRAUD written in bright, red letters across my forehead. It also had an equally bright circle with a line going through it superimposed over fan-art Lona. I looked at the title and the creator. Grifter “Medium” Breaks the Internet. It was by The Self-Angrydized Atheist. At least his name was a pretty good and accurate pun. I clicked on it. I had to, you know? It was just so . . . tantalizing. Having a video made about you. Who could resist? Lona crawled up onto my lap and sleepily nuzzled into my thighs. I stroked her hair and started the video. At 1.5 times speed. No one has forty-five minutes anymore. Come on, guys. Be reasonable.

The content of the video was pretty much exactly what I expected. A man with long, blond hair and glasses sat in a dark room and ranted at a camera the entire time. He had a thick beard and his presentation was rough. He had obviously been doing this a while because he had a nice camera and some good audio, something that I still had not figured out, but it really was not my kind of video. There were some half-baked theories as to how we faked the videos on ewg.com and on the Roe Bro Show. Saying that I was doing this for money. Which . . . kind of. After we blew up the first time, we did start a Patreon and people were supporting us. Not a lot. Certainly not enough to fund five people.

Overall, his video did raise some important questions. Questions I had often wondered about myself. Why is this just coming out now? Why not in the past? I did not have a great answer from my own research. As near as I can tell, it is just because it is really hard to test. I could never figure out how many mediums exist because it was so easy to lie about and I cannot possibly meet seven billion people and test them all. So, it is all self-reporting. And I have discovered exactly one other medium in my entire life. Ghosts are also pretty rare. I crunched some numbers and found it was closer to one-in-one-billion people become a ghost. Which was a few magnitudes higher than the one-in-five-hundred-thousand I thought it might be. And there was no consistency between who became a ghost and who did not. He also asked Why Ouija Board planchettes would have any legitimacy to them? He went on to talk about the history of Ouija Boards and how they widely seemed ridiculous. And again, I thought the same thing. Until I didn't. He got some of the details wrong. There were rituals that they were used in before they were made into commercial toys for the masses. But even still, there were so many rituals that were bullshit that it was shocking that any of them were real, realistically.

He ended his video in a way that I thought was really odd. “Overall, there's no evidence for ghosts, god, or the need for a government. Anyone who claims to speak to ghosts is a fraud, a charlatan and grifter.”

He held up his hands and did finger quotes. “I challenge you, “John Jamison” if that is your real name. If you're telling the truth, come on my show and show me the truth. Don't tell me that ghosts are real. Show me.”

Then he linked his Patreon, told me to like, comment, and subscribe, and to follow him on Twitter. I clicked on his Twitter. And I followed him. This guy was an ass, but not all of his arguments were in bad faith. I could not really separate how much of his anger and vitriol was him and what was his persona. I also at-ed him.

John Jamison, CPA @johnjamisoncpa

@ngrydized8heist I accept your challenge. Lona and I will come on your show.

I closed Twitter and did not think of it once until a few days later when I was logging on to see if there was an update on a show that I liked. I had over a hundred notifications. For someone who was used to the occasional retweet from a colleague, this was weird. Some of them were new follows, some of them were people at-ing me insisting that I was a fraud. A lot of his followers, I suppose. I also had a direct message from The Angrydized Atheist.

@ngrydized8heist

If you're serious about this, let's discuss the details. Message me here.

@johnjamisoncpa

I am serious about this. I want to come on your show. I think I have a reasonable chance of proving that ghosts exist to you with Lona there. Also, I'd like to talk about some of the things you brought up in your video about me.

It was a while before he responded and I just went about my day. He did get back to me and we traded details. In a weird coincidence, we were in the same state. He lived on the other side of town. We agreed to meet up. I agreed to be on camera and for him to monetize the video. I told Lona.

“You want to go on that really mean guy's channel? Why? He said all of those mean things about you.”

“Because I think he's arguing in good faith.”

“Good faith? He's an atheist. He doesn't have faith!” Lona said, incredulously.

“Good faith means . . . Fine, whatever. I think he's honestly convinced that I'm a con artist. Something a lot of people think about me and Karen right now. I want to try and alleviate that a bit.”

“You said you didn't think that was possible.”

“I also didn't think it was possible for a ghost to juggle, and yet here we are.”

“We should talk to Karen about this,” she said before taking out her phone and dialing. She put it on speakerphone and it was a moment before Karen picked up.

“Yello,” Karen said, yawning. It was a bit early for her. Or late, depending. “What's up?”

“Karen, tell John he's an idiot.”

“Oh, is that all? John, you're an idiot. Can I go back to sleep now?”

“John agreed to an interview with an angry atheist man because he has good faith or something.”

“Oh, that. I saw that on Twitter. That is pretty stupid. But hey, free press.”

“But he's angry and mean and said mean things about you guys.”

“Better than some of the disgusting comments. Do you know how many people have asked for a ghost footjob? More than zero. And that's a sign that we should eradicate the entire species, as far as I'm concerned.” Lona giggled at this.

“So you're okay with him doing this?”

“Too late to stop it now. Looks like the neckbeard has posted about it on Twitter. If we back out now, it won't do any good.” Karen yawned again. “Good talk. Night night.”

She hung up and Lona rolled her eyes at the phone. “Fine, I guess we're doing it.”

It took us a few weeks before he was ready and we were going to live-stream it, then he was going to edit it down and post it onto his channel. I came prepared with some research that I had done in between work and recording more experiments with Lona and Karen. Sara and Vic wanted to stay out of this for the time being. They never asked for a public life. And that was fair. Well, public attention, in Sara's case.

We drove down there and parked in front of the address he had given me. I got out and looked around. Lona was there with me, but she was pouting. She did not like this idea. She did not think we should engage with someone so negative. I still disagreed. I rang the bell. After a moment and some rustling, he answered the door. “Oh, you came. Good.”

“Wouldn't miss it,” I said, looking around. I held out my hand. “I'm John.”

“James,” he said, taking my hand and shaking it firmly. “Is your . . . 'ghost' here?”

“She's right here.” I nodded my head to the side she was on. “Lona, shake his hand.”

“What?” James asked.

“There a problem?”

“You're claiming ghosts can shake hands now.”

“Yeah. Well, not all ghosts. Lona's special.”

“Special, huh?” He held out his hand in the air where he figured Lona could be. “Well?”

Lona looked at his hand and passed through him. He shuddered. “What was that?”

“Oh. I guess that makes sense,” I said.

“What?” James asked.

“She's mad at you and at me.”

“Your 'ghost' is mad at me? Why?”

“You called her fake and me a fraud.”

“Uh-huh. Sure, bro. Probably just a chill in the air. It is only April, after all. Come on. I have a space set up,” James said, dismissively. I rolled my eyes and followed him. He made his way to the garage and I followed. Lona followed me, arms crossed.

“Why didn't you just shake his hand? That could have been proof in and of itself.”

“I thought you wanted to argue in good faith,” Lona responded. “Have your little argument. Then I will prove to him that I'm real.”

“Lona, I'm sor-”

“What are you waiting for?”

“Sorry, having some trouble with the talent,” I responded. “Come on, Lone. Let's just prove to him you exist.”

We walked into a dark room that was illuminated three spaces across what looked to be a cheap, forty-dollar table from Wal-Mart. Can't really blame him there. Good equipment is expensive. There were two chairs at the table, sitting across from one another. Two mics, and three cameras. “Is this acceptable?”

“No, we need a third chair,” I said, immediately.

“Why?”

“Because I don't want Lona standing around for no reason.”

“She's a ghost, right? That's your claim. What's the harm in her standing?” James asked, annoyance creeping in his voice.

“She's a person and thus deserves respect and it would make you a better host.”

“Hmm. Alright. He got another chair that looked significantly less comfortable than the rest. It was a metal folding chair and sat it next to the table. I went over and offered the comfortable-looking office chair to Lona. She sat down and I wheeled her to the side and took the folding chair and sat across from James.”

He turned the cameras on with a single button and then a TV screen next to him and one next to me, that I had not noticed. There was a slew of comments coming through. People calling me all sorts of names. I scanned through the comments for a moment and smiled. James began to speak. “Ladies, gentlemen, and everyone in between or completely different! Welcome to the live debate between the one, the only, Self-Angrydized Atheist and John, the supposed medium. Say 'Hello, John'.”

“Hello, John,” I responded, smiling into the camera. I was a little nervous, but I also felt prepared. I could do this.

“Very cute,” James said in a condescending tone. “So, I figured we will do it like this: We will have some remarks, talk a bit about this, have a little back and forth, then open it up to questions. How's that sound?”

“I am willing to do that,” I said simply. “But why can't we just do a demonstration?”

“Demonstration?” James asked. “What do you mean?”

“Well, this is your space. I've never been here before, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So, why not just have Lona juggle some objects of your choice?” Lona watched me, her expression carefully hidden behind a mask of indifference. “Wouldn't a practical display be more convincing to you and your followers, at least those who can be convinced by such a display, than a debate?”

“That's not a bad idea, but you said you also wanted to talk to me about my video, right?”

“Yeah. So, how about we do both. Lona wants to see me make an ass out of myself, live on the internet, so we do that for a while. We talk, then we do a bit of a display, then we open up the floor to questions from the audience.” I was speaking a little quickly. The comments were going wild and little images were dancing across the screen that I did not understand. I was not too familiar with Twitch or how it worked.

“Okay. How would you like to start, then?”

“Definitions,” I responded and I took out my notes.

“Definitions?” James asked. I think it was a ploy. He looked very smart asking questions. I might look like an idiot right now. I saw a picture of myself in the video. I did look like an idiot. Oh well.

“Yeah. Well, I want to define the parameters of the debate. Make sure we're on the same page about what we're talking about.”

“Yeah, okay,” James nodded. “You go first, then I'll have some terms I'm going to define.”

“Alrighty,” I managed and gulped. “So, firstly, when I use the term afterlife, I am not making any claims about any particular religious beliefs or affiliations. The only aspect I can attest to is that some people and animals become ghosts and exist for some time after their corporeal body ceases to function. I will not be making any claims about God or gods.”

“Why not?” James asked, leaning forward.

“Because I'm not sure on those.”

“You're a medium, but you don't believe in God? Isn't that a little contradictory?”

“I'm not convinced about the existence of any gods. I'm also not convinced of the lack of any gods. I just don't have enough data to go off of.”

“So you're an agnostic medium? That's interesting.”

“I guess,” I responded, shrugging noncommittally. “Beyond that, I can only attest to my own experiences and the tests that I have personally done. I'm not here claiming that anyone else is a medium, with the exception of the other person who runs the channel and website with me, Karen.”

“Why not?”

“I don't know if they're legitimate. I cannot substantiate their claims. They might be mediums. But I'd have to either meet them myself and see them with a real ghost in front of them to be sure.”

“Okay . . .” James said, hesitantly. “You're a lot different than I expected.”

“What did you expect?” I asked.

“Never mind that. Are those all of your . . . uh, stipulations?”

“All that I can think of, yeah.”

“Alright. So, I also want to define a few terms,” he said, picking up his phone and read off a few definitions. “Fraud: intentional perversion of truth in order to induce another to part with something of value or to surrender a legal right. Fake: not true, real, or genuine. Charlatan: one making usually showy pretenses to abilities or knowledge.”

“How dare you!” Lona shouted, stomping her foot. The lights dimmed for a moment and the table, cameras, and mics shook.

“What was that?” James said, looking around.

I leaned over and adjusted the camera. “You upset Lona a bit.”

“Why do you call her Lona?”

“Because that's her name?”

“Says who?”

“Says her. Even if you believe I'm lying or tricking you or crazy, are you objecting to what her name is?”

“Just curious. Lona's kind of a weird name.”

“All names are kind of weird. What kind of name is John or Ja . . .”

“My followers know my name. Okay. Fair enough. James and John are weird names. I can grant that in a way. Why don't you believe in God?”

“Why don't you?”

“I'm unconvinced of the existence of beings I cannot sense in any reasonable way and find a lot of the claims contradictory.”

“That's effectively my reasoning as well. I'm not one-hundred percent sure, in either direction. They could be hiding, but that's not a claim I'm willing to make with any confidence.”

“But you're convinced of ghosts?”

“Yeah, I've met a lot of them. I live with one,” I responded simply. “Makes it a bit easier, don't you think?”

“When did you meet your first ghost?” James asked. I relayed the story of my grandmother and how people reacted. He circled back and asked some questions to try and trip me up. But true stories are usually pretty easy to keep straight.

“How did you meet Lona?” James asked. I explained the first couple of days of our life together.

“So, ghosts can just move anywhere they like? Is that your claim?”

“No. Well, maybe. But I have a hypothesis that contradicts that idea.”

“Oh? Do tell.”

“Anchors,” I began. “I think ghosts become attached to things, people places, et cetera and those attachments can be severed and reformed. Lona became attached to me because . . . Well, because I was able to talk to her and she missed talking to people.”

“Before our stream, you said you thought Lona was special. Why is that?”

“Well,” I smiled at her, thoughtfully. “She's special for a lot of reasons, but in regards to the claims I'm making today, she's the only Poltergeist I've ever met.”

“The only one?” James asked. “They're all over the movies and stories. Why do you think they'd be so rare?”

“Media is seldom a good place to get a clear idea of anything. I think Poltergeists are popular because it's awfully cinematic, you know? Floating objects, slamming doors, shattering vases and glass. Just a really catchy meme, you know?”

“Hmm. I guess that would make sense. Pretty convenient, though. The only poltergeist you've ever met also living with you.”

“I guess. Seems to be some sampling bias on your part, though.”

“How so?”

“Well, over the course of my life, I've met, I don't know, a hundred ghosts. A few have gotten attached to me for a time. But this is kind of like saying that I've gone to a shelter and seen hundreds of possible pets but one stood out. Yes, technically accurate, but it was kind of a one-for-one shot.”

“Did you really just compare me to a dog?” Lona demanded.

“What? No! I mean, kind of. But not like that. It was a metaphor.”

“You're going to be in the doghouse if you're not careful, Rover,” Lona said, trying to sound testy, but breaking out into a smile at the end.

“What is going on?”

“Oh, sorry. Lona didn't like that I compared her to a dog.”

“Huh. Okay, I guess.” James and I continued going back and forth for a while. Widely, it was just him asking questions that he thought might stump me. I was not ever stumped and always plainly admitted when I did not know something. After a while, it stopped being less outright hostile and became more of a conversation. Which apparently bored Lona enough so that she started wandering. She started picking things up and tossing them. She pelted James with a ping-pong ball. “What the fuck!?”

“Sorry. Lona's bored. She does that sometimes. Just starts wandering. Makes running experiments a nightmare.”

“Not my experiments. I never wander on those.”

“Those aren't . . . Those aren't regulated in any way. They're fun, but . . .”

“You just admitted they're fun! We should totally do more, then, right?” Lona asked, appearing in front of me in an instant. I jumped.

“Did I say fun?” I asked, playfully, pushing her back.

“You did. And that's a yes! We're doing more!” She looked at James who was just standing there, looking confused and angry.

“What the hell is going on?”

“Right. Sometimes it's hard to remember that not everyone can see her. I haven't figured out a solution for the cameras yet, but for people, we have a few,” I said. I took a pair of Ouija Glass clip-ons out of my pocket and handed them to Lona. “Please.”

She sighed but spun them around in the air. I glanced at the camera feed for a moment and the comments. They were going insane. People were heatedly debating whether or not any of this was actually happening. Some people were claiming that James was faking it for views and was becoming a shill. Others were saying that I was tricking him somehow. Some were actually convinced. She walked past all three cameras and held out the clip-ons to him. He hesitated and took them from what must have looked like empty air to him. He examined them and held them to a light.

“What are these?”

“Two Ouija Board planchettes stapled together as a pair of clip-ons,” I responded.

“Why?”

“Put'em on,” I suggested. He clipped them to his glasses and looked around. Then gaped and pointed at Lona.

“Wh-what the hell? Wh-who are you?”

“That's Lona. Unfortunately, we haven't found a way for you to hear her, but these work for some reason. Unfortunately, it doesn't work for cameras for some reason.”

James sat there staring for a moment, his mouth hanging open. He closed his mouth and shook his head and took the glasses off and stared at them. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why Ouija Boards?” James asked, looking up at me. His eyes looked smaller without his glasses on. It was a little weird.

“Oh, no fu- . . . No idea.”

“You can curse. This is my channel,” James said, grinning. “You don't know why Ouija Boards work?”

“Honestly, I have no idea. I never thought to try them before I met Karen and Lona. I always thought they were nonsense and . . . Well, I never really needed one.”

“Sure . . .” James put his glasses, including the Ouija clip-ons back and looked at Lona. Then he turned to his camera and said, “I have no way of substantiating this claim to you guys, but I am seeing, with my own eyes, a woman standing next to John, here. As near as I can tell, it is genuine. It doesn't appear to be superimposed onto the lenses, which I will be examining more closely on camera after the stream. I don't think it's AR either.”

“What's AR?” Lona asked.

“Augmented reality. Taking a digital picture or creation and trying to integrate it with a photo or video of reality around it,” I whispered back to her.

“What did you just say?” James asked.

“Oh,” I said, bringing my attention back to our host. “Lona died in the 90's. She . . . She didn't know what AR was, so I was just explaining it.”

“Ah, well, I think with that, we should do some demonstrations,” James responded. Then he muttered to himself. “Ghosts . . . actually exist . . . Or . . . She exists . . . Yeah, it doesn't mean all of the rest exist.”

A skeptic to the end. That is fair. I don't know that I'd believe in this if I wasn't living it either. “Yeah, I think demonstrations would be the best. What can we do? We could have Lona lift the table, juggle, pick you up. Whatever you think would be the most . . . Hard to disprove.”

“P-pick me up?” James paled a little bit at that. Which was impressive. He was already incredibly pale.

“Oh, he's scared of me. That's cute,” Lona said, grinning at this.

“Stop it,” I said. “Let's do this. We'll clear the area out a little bit then we can try several different things. Whatever comes to mind, then we'll take suggestions from your chat. Sound fair?”

“Uh, yeah . . . I guess.”

“Lona. Move the table out of the way,” I said, looking up to her. She was still standing next to me. She looked down, pensively.

“Why?”

“Because as an opener to this, it's pretty impressive.” She shrugged and pushed the table off to the side, leaving a large space in its absence, then stood in the center.

“Well?” She asked, impatiently. I picked up a ping pong ball from the table and held it up to the camera, showing the audience what it was. I tossed it to her and she tried to catch it. It bounced off of her hand and she panicked and threw her arms out, but did manage to catch it, holding it up. She walked over to the camera and held it aloft in the air. She chose the camera next to James. She then tossed it at him, bouncing it off of his head. He jumped and held out his hand.

“Uh, L-Lona. Would you shake my hand this time? I know that I was . . . Pretty rude to you before, but I want to make amends for that. I . . . I didn't know,” James said, shakily. Lona smiled down at him and took his hand. She shook it vigorously, then pulled him to his feet. “Wh-what're you doing?”

She pulled him into a hug. He was a pretty big guy. Probably around 6'1 or so and heavy. But Lona lifted him up and spun him around a few times for the camera, before setting him back down. His legs went out from under him. “She's . . . She's real . . . She's really fucking cold.”

“Yeah,” I said, laughing. “You get used to it.”

“It can even be fun, sometimes, right, Jizzle?” Lona asked, appearing beside me and running her fingers down my neck. I shivered, but leaned into her and closed my eyes for a moment.

We did a couple more experiments. Mostly lifting things. Lona even juggled a few weird objects that he had. A three-pound dumbbell, a football, and my car keys. She had gotten better. After a few more demonstrations, we moved the table back and sat down. The chat had gone crazy. James and I both ran through a couple of questions that the audience had and after a while, we had to limit it exclusively to questions that were attached to donations, for the sake of time. It had taken three hours, but we ended the stream and James walked us out.

“Hey, I just wanted to say . . . I didn't mean to call you a fraud.”

“Yes, you did,” I responded. James started talking but I cut him off. “And that's okay with me. Lona doesn't like it, but I get it. I've been called a fraud my whole life. My parents don't believe I can do this. Hardly anyone does. But between you and the Roe Bro Show, maybe I can get the message out there for other people.”

James considered me for a moment. “You're not what I expected.”

“Yeah, well, who is?” I asked, shrugging. James laughed. We said our goodbyes and left.

“Well, that was interesting,” I said, as we pulled onto the freeway. Lona grabbed my hand and squeezed it.

“Yeah, I guess I understand why you wanted to do that. He's . . . More intense than Roman and . . . You guys think alike. He's just more hardlined about it.”

“Hard not to be when you don't have any proof to the contrary,” I said, stroking her hand with my thumb. We continued driving for a little while longer. There was a loud bang. The car just ahead of me in the lane next to ours invaded my lane and I could not avoid it. It spun out and I slammed into the car. I felt myself start to go forward. The seatbelt caught me, but not quite soon enough. My head slammed against the steering wheel. I heard an explosion and felt something push me back. The airbag had deployed late. I felt my head rest on it.

Everything went black.