Glass Eye: Confessions of a Fake Psychic Detective

Chapter 45

I Ching is to the supernatural as Panda Express is to mall food courts: cultural appropriation for white folks convinced they're too enlightened for the standard fare, but not so far along to not toss around the word "Oriental" like it isn't a slur.

Latent racism aside, this "ancient Chinese form of divination" conjures insights from coins and yarrow stalks, a fancy term for "overpriced sticks." They're some of Zandra's best sellers at Sneak Peek. It's all in the packaging, covered in Mandarin writing that if anyone in Stevens Point would bother to translate would realize is nothing but insults. Stray twigs could get the job done just as well, but where's the fun in that?

Zandra figures Abby and Seth haven't heard of I Ching before. If they have, she'll just pronounce it in a different way. "Eye Chin" is the standard for Stevens Point's shamans of the Midwest. "E Sheen," on the other hand, well, now that's something completely different.

I Ching comes with a host of divination methods, but Zandra makes up her own to suit her plans for Abby and Seth. It won't take much.

"If Gene isn't onto us, he will be soon," Abby says. She loads the magazine back into the pistol and stares at Seth. "You thought of that better plan yet? Or do we do mine?"

Seth looks like he might vomit. He mumbles something about needing more time.

"Here's a plan. We need to clear our heads and re-focus or we're never going to figure this knot out. Lucky for you, this is one of my specialties," Zandra says. She collapses into a chair at the table.

"You're not going to pull some more of that Ouija board crap on us, are you?" Abby says.

Zandra shakes the matches out onto the table and brushes them into a circular pattern. It's not how an I Ching session is typically set up, but it doesn't matter. What does is the hope in Seth's desperate eyes. He's primed.

"Have you heard of I Ching before?" Zandra says. "It's a form of..."

"Oh, please, don't start with this," Abby says, cutting her off.

Seth swats at the air near Abby. "Stop it. Let her finish," he says.

Zandra clears her throat and continues. "It's a form of ancient Chinese fortune telling. Whether you believe in the supernatural powers of I Ching or not, it's a great tool for accessing your subconscious decision-making abilities. Your mind is always working on answers to problems. It's just a matter of finding a way to listen in. That's why so many people find answers in dreams. I Ching allows you to cut right to the chase. No sleep required."

"So it's not like the Ouija board? I didn't like that so much," Seth says.

"No. This is a mental tool. With enough practice you could, as I have, use I Ching to tap into the spirit world. But that's for another day," Zandra says.

Seth folds his hands and leans toward the circle of matchsticks. "Am I supposed to be seeing something in this?" he says, trying to appease Abby's skepticism.

"Of course not, moron. Do you think the ancient Chinese had kitchen matches?" Abby says.

Zandra plucks four matchsticks and holds them a few inches above the circle. "The materials change with time. It's the method that's important. Now watch closely," she says and drops the matches onto their mates below. Her eyes admire the pattern they make like a trophy.

"That's it?" Abby says.

Seth shushes her again.

Zandra remains focused on the four-match pattern. She lets her eyes blur until the matchsticks fuzz over into shapes and letters. It's more effective than she'd originally thought. Like reading the lyrics to a garbled song, all it takes to make sense of the shapes and letters is a suggestion.