Tom Larsen grew up believing in stories from the Bolingbrook Babbler tabloid about UFOs, half-human weredeer, and vampire gangs. Then one day his parents told him the truth—the stories were all a lie.
Years later, Tom built a reputation as a skeptical blogger, debunking paranormal events. However, after podcast host Jamie Kyle posted a video about Tom's attempts to "hook up" with her, he was furious.
Since then, Tom has made a career defending the skeptical movement against Humanist Heart, a group of social justice skeptics. When he hears that his hometown of Bolingbrook will host Humanist Heart's congress, and Jamie will be their guest, Tom hatches a plan to confront her.
The only problem is that he must work for the Babbler to gain access. But an attack by a weredeer during his first assignment leaves Tom's beliefs in pieces. The monsters, the UFOs, everything he tried to debunk—are all real!
Now, Men's Rights Activists are trying to disrupt the congress, weredeer have surrounded the area, and mysterious time rifts are appearing throughout Bolingbrook. Only Jamie and the Babbler can help Tom, but will he have the courage to face the truth about himself before it’s too late?
Tom Larsen grew up believing in stories from the Bolingbrook Babbler tabloid about UFOs, half-human weredeer, and vampire gangs. Then one day his parents told him the truth—the stories were all a lie.
Years later, Tom built a reputation as a skeptical blogger, debunking paranormal events. However, after podcast host Jamie Kyle posted a video about Tom's attempts to "hook up" with her, he was furious.
Since then, Tom has made a career defending the skeptical movement against Humanist Heart, a group of social justice skeptics. When he hears that his hometown of Bolingbrook will host Humanist Heart's congress, and Jamie will be their guest, Tom hatches a plan to confront her.
The only problem is that he must work for the Babbler to gain access. But an attack by a weredeer during his first assignment leaves Tom's beliefs in pieces. The monsters, the UFOs, everything he tried to debunk—are all real!
Now, Men's Rights Activists are trying to disrupt the congress, weredeer have surrounded the area, and mysterious time rifts are appearing throughout Bolingbrook. Only Jamie and the Babbler can help Tom, but will he have the courage to face the truth about himself before it’s too late?
“A scientific skeptic is a person who applies the methods of science and reason to all claims of fact, prefers evidence to feelings, questions all beliefs, and strives to avoid fallacies that can lead to self-deception.” —Professor Matthew Bennett, Beyond the Supernatural: A Guide to Scientific Skepticism
Tom peered at his reflection in the elevator’s mirrored walls. He noticed some stubble, but not enough to go back to his room and shave. Relax. You’re among friends.
Tom took a few breaths as the elevator stopped on the main floor. The door slid open and a sign in the lobby caught his attention.
The Rosemont Desert Sun Hotel and Casino welcomes Habencon Attendees!
The sign prominently featured the logo of the Habenstein Society, founded by famous magician, infamous debunker, and father of the modern skeptical movement Reese Habenstein. Tom smiled as he left the elevator, knowing he was going to see his longtime role model and grandfather figure again.
Watching Reese’s DVD as a child had changed Tom’s life. After that night, he’d stopped reading the Babbler and started reading about science. Over the years, Tom and his father had bonded over skepticism, though growing up an unbeliever in Bolingbrook hadn’t been easy.
Local youth groups were either religious or sponsored by churches. One time, an adult leader had warned Tom’s parents he was an “at-risk youth” because he didn’t go to church. He did go to Ethical Sunday School, but that was in the northern suburbs of Chicagoland, too far away to meet up more than once a week. Aging out hadn’t helped matters either. In school, many kids had teased Tom, who became quiet and defensive around new people.
Being a shy teenager hadn’t made dating easy. Hardly anyone wanted a hellbound boyfriend, and the young women he did date never became girlfriends. There were times when Tom considered pretending to be religious, but he always remembered Reese’s commitment to the truth. Tom wasn’t going to sacrifice who he was to seem cool.
Jason had tried to help by taking him to the Chicago Anti-Superstition Society’s Saturday sessions. Though most attendees were older, Tom loved the sense of belonging he felt, and even developed a crush on one of the regulars, never finding the courage to tell her. After she found a boyfriend in college, Tom had been too sad to attend meetings.
College had been somewhat better, and Tom had managed to let his guard down and make more friends. Though he never entered a long term relationship, he dated, and even had his first sexual experience. They soon broke up, and though Tom kept asking women on dates, some of the breakups had been too painful to bounce back from. Plus, even in college, some women didn’t like that he was an atheist who got carried away ranting against bunk.
Tom navigated through the maze of slots and video poker machines towards the familiar Old West facade of the Watering Hole bar. Looking at the signs with fake bullet holes excited him. This would be his third year at Habencon, Reese’s annual convention of skeptics from around the world. Celebrities, scientists, teachers, and grassroots activists made the pilgrimage to Rosemont for a weekend of workshops, speeches, entertainment, and networking; and, of course, to honor the man who brought them together. At his previous Habencons, Tom had felt like he was surrounded by a group of special friends, and couldn’t wait to experience it again.
Traditionally, attendees who arrived the day before Habencon gathered at the Watering Hole. Tom entered and quickly realized he’d never seen it this crowded before. The bar would have resembled a Wild West saloon, except for the big screen TVs hanging on wireframes. The staff uniforms resembled nineteenth century outfits, though Tom doubted any waitress from that era would have worn a leotard and fishnet stockings.
Tom saw many familiar faces, but also that the Watering Hole gathering was less informal than it used to be. Vendors, organizations, podcasters, and bloggers now reserved tables where their fans could congregate and buy merchandise. Two of them captured his interest. The Skeptical World podcasters had two tables loaded with books, CDs, and DVDs for sale. SW, Tom remembered, was one of the first podcasts about scientific skepticism and still the most popular. As he made his way towards the tables, he remembered when his father heard him listening to SW. “It’s like a radio show for skeptics,” his father had told him. Tom suspected that his father had been happy his teenage son was still interested in skepticism.
Next to SW was SheSkeptic, a skeptical women’s blog. The people gathered by their table, however, were more interested in watching an interview being recorded, possibly for Skeptical World. Tom recognized the interviewer as Jamie Kyle, co-host of SW and editor of SheSkeptic. The ends of her medium-length blonde hair were neon pink, and she wore a pair of wire-rimmed glasses. Three women sat at the table with her, while three more stood behind.
“Something needed to be done about the lack of women here,” said Jamie. “So we started the SheSkeptic scholarships. Let’s meet the first recipients.” Jamie pointed her microphone at the woman sitting to her right.
“I’m Pamela Gorman,” the woman replied. She sported a blonde pixie cut and wore a purple t-shirt with a black cat on the front. “I’m a mathematics-physics graduate from Reed, where I also dabbled a bit in gender studies and music. This fall, I’m starting grad school at the University of Washington.”
Jamie nodded. “Impressive. Now—is Sakura here?” As she glanced in Tom’s direction, he quickly looked away, continuing towards the book tables.
At the SW table, he recognized three other hosts, two from Australia, and one, Ivan Cabot, from the US. While the Australians dressed casually, Ivan wore a t-shirt from the previous Habencon covered with pro-skepticism buttons. Tom wondered if Ivan was trying to compensate for being the newest and youngest member of SW’s team.
Ivan noticed Tom. “Excuse me,” he said. “Have we met before?”
Tom smiled. The thrill of being recognized never got old. “Last year. I’m Tom Larsen. I write the Skeptical Butterfly blog.”
“That’s right! You’re that Tom. Good to see you again.”
“Same here.” They shook hands.
“You’re from Bolingbrook, right?”
Tom felt his face burn red. “Guilty. In fact, I’m going to start working there in a few months.”
“Not at the Babbler, I hope?”
Tom laughed. “Of course not. They’d fire me in an instant! I’m gonna debunk them.”
“Good. We need to take the fight to their turf.”
Tom nervously chuckled. “I will, but I’d rather focus on homeopathy. I know too many people who think that stuff works.”
“I feel you,” nodded Ivan, who then reached for a book. “We just got the new Teen Guide to Skepticism.”
Tom felt the nostalgia rush over him. As a teenager, he’d won arguments because of that book. Still, that was the past, and he didn’t need such a basic guide any more. “I’ll think about it.”
Tom looked at the other items on the table. Two CDs caught his attention. The first was Jamie’s newest musical album, Far Away, its cover photoshopped to seem as if she was wearing a stretch of outer space. The second was by the host of the Skeptical Minute podcast, who wore a black tuxedo and held out his hand. A photoshopped lens flare floated above his open palm. Kneeling beside him was a naked woman, who was reaching towards the light while averting her eyes.
“In case you’re wondering,” Ivan said. “That’s his wife.” He grinned. “Lucky guy.”
Tom let his eyes linger on her for a moment, then chuckled nervously. “I guess.”
“Great skeptic too. His rapping, however…”
Tom shrugged, then paid for both albums.
“Thanks,” Ivan said as he returned Tom’s card. “Your purchases help keep us going.”
“Glad to help,” Tom replied. He took a few seconds to work up his courage. “You know,” he finally said. “I’ve wanted to interview you since you joined the show.”
“And I’ve been meaning to ask you.”
Tom gasped.
“Yeah. I might not have recognized your face at first, but I’ve heard a lot about you. I think our audience would love to learn more about the blogger behind Skeptical Butterfly.”
“Wow,” Tom replied.
“If you keep up the work,” Ivan added, “you’ll have opportunities in the movement that you’ve never imagined.”
“Wow.” Tom collected himself. “I hope so. Podcasters’ Row?”
“Where else? Stop by whenever.”
Tom’s face glowed with excitement as he left. Ivan would be the most famous person he’d ever interviewed. More importantly, Ivan wanted to interview him.
Tom shifted over to the Committee for Humanism and Skepticism’s table. The Committee was one of the oldest international humanist organizations, founded by former CEO turned philosopher Paul Randall. Reese had run the Committee’s skepticism branch until he left to form the Habenstein Society. At the Committee’s peak, it had chapters on every continent but Africa, and was the largest atheist organization in the world. Though it was less popular now, rich donors and an international staff of activists kept it relevant.
Since the Committee catered mostly to its big donors, it didn’t surprise Tom that they were promoting a cruise ship tour with Randall and Barqah Jogi, a committee member best known for critiquing Islam. As much as Tom wanted to hear her lectures, the cheapest room cost more than his expected salary. The staffers at the table showed little interest in him, so he looked around for his friends instead.
Moments later, he noticed a man wearing a familiar sports jacket. Tom realized he was standing a few feet away from skepticism’s most influential intellectual and, arguably, the man responsible for the rise of atheism in the twenty-first century, Professor Matthew Bennett. Even Tom’s religious friends knew who Bennett was and hated him. Since the publication of The Skeptical Mind, his books were bestsellers no matter the topic. Any of his controversial tweets could generate editorials around the world. Right now, Bennett was watching a tired-looking woman leave his table.
Tom took a deep breath, then approached. Though Bennett was in his late fifties, Tom couldn’t see a single gray hair. Bennett’s attention lingered for a few seconds on his departing companion, then turned to Tom.
“I hope this isn’t a bad time,” Tom blurted out.
Bennett shook his head. “I’ll find her later. What can I do for you?”
“Um.” Tom stuttered. “I’m Tom, and I just wanted to say I’m a big fan.”
“Thank you.” Bennett motioned for Tom to have a seat.
Tom rushed to take it, not knowing how much time he’d get with Bennett. “I especially enjoyed your debate with that postmodernist. I can’t believe there are people like that.”
“They’re out there, that’s for sure. They just have to learn that because some people are sexist, that doesn’t mean the speed of light is a social construct. Amazing we debate that at all.”
“I know. Well, thank you for standing up to them.”
“You’re welcome,” Bennett replied. “So, what are your plans for this weekend? Any dates lined up?”
“Dates?”
“Hookups, dates, whatever you want to call them. I expect to do well this year. How about you?”
Tom blushed.
“You can trust me,” Bennett said with a smile. “I used to be licensed.” He paused as Tom tilted his head. “Wasn’t worth it.”
Tom nervously laughed.
“So. Dates?”
Tom looked around. He lowered his voice and leaned closer to Bennett. “Well, I don’t like saying ‘hookup.’ It just sounds like you’re using someone.”
Bennett barely shrugged.
“I think of it as… making a connection.”
“I’m interested.”
“It’s like… when most of us come here, we feel like we’re part of something greater. Like it’s us against the world, except here they can’t reach us. My first time here, I took a chance and flirted with another scholarship recipient. She flirted back. It was amazing.” He smiled as he reminisced.
“Who?”
“You wouldn’t know her,” Tom replied, believing she wouldn’t have wanted him to say her name. “I’ve felt that way with other women I’ve met here.” Tom nervously smiled. “It’s something that doesn’t happen to me outside—” Tom lowered his head. “Sorry. I must be boring you.”
“Not at all.”
“It’s just so different at Habencon.”
“It is. If I can ask, have you ‘connected’ with anyone famous?”
Tom shook his head. “I wouldn’t have anything to say to them.”
“You’re a student, right?”
“I graduated.”
“Congratulations. Welcome to the real world.”
Tom chuckled. “Thanks.”
“So that’s something you can talk about.”
“I don’t know if—”
“Don’t be modest. It won’t get you far. In fact, if you want to get ahead, consider connecting with someone higher up.”
Tom’s eyes widened, surprised that someone like Bennett would say something like that.
Bennett continued, “You understand the importance of networking, right?”
Tom nodded.
“Horizontal networking is the best kind. Trust me.” Bennett leaned closer. “I used to get paid a hundred bucks an hour to give advice. But I’ll give you this one for free.”
Tom nodded again and leaned closer to Bennett.
“Don’t limit yourself,” said Bennett. “You can have any woman you want.”
Tom furrowed his brow. “Any?”
“Any,” Bennett replied. “Just project confidence and make your move. Don’t let anyone tell you differently. Worked for all my clients.”
“That’s it?” asked Tom.
“If you just want to“—Bennett paused—”connect, then yes. If you want something more… that’s only the first step.”
“There’s more?”
“Yes,” said Bennett, looking around the room, “But that’s for another time.” He stood, and Tom quickly stood up as well. “Remember, no one is out of your league. Only you can hold yourself back. Remember that.”
“I will,” Tom replied.
“I didn’t catch your last name.”
“Larsen.”
“Tom Larsen?”
“Yes.”
Bennett seemed to examine Tom for a moment. “Have fun, Tom. And remember, don’t limit yourself.”
“Thank you.” Tom reached for his wallet.
“You can give me your card later. See you around, Tom.” Bennett turned and faded into the crowd.
After a few moments, Tom realized his heart was racing. He took a few breaths to calm himself. Professor Matthew Bennett not only talked to him but offered him free advice. It was a moment he never dreamed could happen.
A man’s clapping startled Tom, who turned and saw an attendee with a mustache and a Habencon 2002 shirt rising from his chair. The other attendees fell silent, and many started looking in the same direction. At the entrance, Tom saw a familiar tall man with a muscular build, wearing a white-collared shirt and high-waisted pants that barely reached his shoes. His now-thinning, snowy white hair matched his trademark thick beard. It was the man who changed Tom’s life, and who had changed the lives of many of the attendees. Reese Habenstein, magician, entertainer, debunker, and founder of the skeptical movement.
Most of the bar patrons took to their feet. Tom quickly started clapping, and soon the entire bar was giving Reese a standing ovation so loud Tom couldn’t hear the slot machines outside. This was the third standing ovation Tom had seen at the bar, and each time, Reese seemed overwhelmed at the love directed at him. Eventually, the applause stopped, and the patrons started approaching him. Tom raced to the rapidly forming line.
Tom fondly remembered his first meeting with Reese and how friendly he was. It also surprised him when he started receiving occasional personal emails from Reese; but Tom always enjoyed their face to face conversations at Habencon much more, even if they were way too short.
Tom joined the line and then noticed Pamela standing behind him.
“Excuse me,” asked Tom. “You’re one of the SheSkeptic scholars, right?”
She nodded. “I’m Pamela.”
“Right. Pamela…” Tom looked for her badge, then remembered registration started tomorrow morning.
“Gorman.”
“Gorman. Now I remember. Tom Larsen.”
“Pleased to meet you. Is this your first one too?”
Tom shook his head. “Third.”
“Wow.”
Tom felt confidence growing within him. “I’ve been a skeptic since I was a kid.”
“Really?”
Tom closed his eyes for a few seconds, then recited Bennett’s definition of scientific skepticism from memory.
A man behind Pamela clapped, and Tom did a quick bow.
“Wow,” Pamela replied. “You really have it down.”
“It’s one of my favorite lines from The Skeptical Mind.”
“I’ll have to check it out.”
“You should,” Tom replied. “It’s required reading for all skeptics.”
The line inched closer towards Reese.
Tom continued. “So, why did you decide to come?”
“I recently started reading SheSkeptic, and when I read about the science workshops at Habencon, I had to come. Hopefully, they’ll help me do effective public outreach to combat innumeracy. I mean, just look at them.” She gestured at the people playing the slot machines. “That’s innumeracy in action.”
Tom glanced at the back doors. When he looked forward, he realized to his surprise that he was next in line.
Reese looked down and smiled as Tom approached. “Hi,” he exclaimed. “I’m glad you came back!”
“You know I couldn’t miss it.”
The two shook hands.
“Dad says hi. He’s sorry he couldn’t make it this year.”
“Too bad. I’m sure the new repair shop takes up all of his time.”
“It does.”
“So, how about you?”
“I’m now officially a college graduate.”
Reese patted Tom on the arm. “I remember. You’re going to be working for a newspaper, right?”
Tom grinned. “I start at the Bolingbrook Star next month. I’m going to be the Assistant Editor.”
“Editor? Congratulations.”
“Thanks, but it’s really a reporter position.”
“Don’t apologize. Do you know how many journalism graduates never get to use their degrees?”
“I see your point.”
“Good. So, are you going to take on the Babbler?”
“Absolutely! Though, really, I’ll probably focus more on alt-med frauds. No one believes the Babbler.”
“True. Still, the Babbler’s been a pain in my ass for years.”
Tom noticed impatient people pooling up behind him. “Before I go,” Tom said. “Let me introduce you to Pamela. This is her first Habencon.”
“A first timer,” said Reese as his face lit up. “You’re one of Jamie’s scholarship winners. Welcome. Are you excited?”
As Reese and Pamela began talking, Tom walked to the bar and ordered a drink. As he sipped it, he noticed a few of his usual friends nearby. He tried to decide who to approach first.
“Tom?” Tom turned and saw Pamela approaching him. “I have a meeting with the other scholarship recipients, but I should be back later tonight.”
“I’ll be around,” Tom replied.
“Great. Oh—this might be a silly question, but do you blog?”
Tom reached for his wallet. “Of course. Mine’s called Skeptical Butterfly.” He handed her a card.
“I’ll have to check it out.”
“I like to think my little blog can make a big difference someday. Just like the wings of a butterfly can cause a hurricane.”
“Not really.” Pamela winked. “Nice sentiment, though.”
“Thanks,” Tom said with a smile.
Even after all the drinks, Tom felt lucky to be at a table with Matthew and Reese, with Pamela alongside him. At the far end, a reporter from the Rosemont Star sat with some people he didn’t know. Tom wasn’t sure exactly when he’d joined them, but now it was close to 2 AM.
“I’ve charted it out,” Bennett interrupted. “The positives of pleasure are greater than the supposed negatives of lacking full consent.”
“You charted it out?” Pamela asked.
“Yes,” Bennett continued. “Charting morality scientifically is an important new tool and the subject of my next book.”
Pamela tilted her head. “I don’t think you can chart something like that, and I say that as a mathematician.”
“My research will—”
Reese started laughing, and the table fell silent. He set down his plastic cup filled with clear soda. “You know, something funny always happens when someone gets a PhD. They spend years studying, theorizing, and defending their work. Finally, they produce a dissertation. If it passes the committee, it’s over. They’ve furthered humanity’s understanding of the world. Then after all that intellectual work“—he paused—”their brain shuts down.”
Bennett began to speak, but Reese held his forefinger up. “Yet each one of them still feels the need to offer an opinion on any subject, no matter how little they really know.” Bennett’s eyes narrowed, but Reese continued. “So, let’s stick to debunking the supernatural and alternative medicine here, shall we?”
Bennett started to reply, but stopped as Jamie approached.
“Hey,” she told Reese. “Thanks for the magic lesson. Hopefully, I’ll still remember most of it after this weekend.”
Reese shrugged. “If you forget, just let me know. I’ll review it for you.”
“Sure,” Jamie replied. She turned her attention to the rest of the table. “It’s been a long night, and I need to go to bed.”
“Too bad,” Bennett said. “We were just talking about sex and feminism. I’d love to hear your thoughts on the subject.”
Jamie shrugged. “I don’t really consider myself a feminist, but as long as both people agree, they can do whatever they want.” Jamie waved to everyone at the table. “Night, everyone. I signed up for way too much this weekend and I gotta crash now.”
As Jamie left, Tom remembered Bennett’s advice. Tom had been a fan of Jamie’s for years. Her humor livened up the US portion of Skeptical World, and her artistic sensibilities balanced the strict scientific views of her fellow podcasters. Her songs varied from whimsical musings on astronomical units, to angry denouncements of religion, to uplifting affirmations of living a secular life, to somber reflections on facing life’s hardships without a god. As Jamie walked towards the door, Tom stood up.
“I should get to bed too,” he said. “It’s been fun.”
Once the others had said goodbye, Tom started towards the elevators. To his relief, he felt tipsy, but otherwise fine.
“Excuse me?”
Tom turned to find Pamela catching up with him.
“I just wanted to say I enjoyed chatting tonight. Maybe we can get together again? I’d like to hear more about the Ethical Union.”
“Sure,” Tom replied. “Shoot me an e-mail or send me a text. I know an excellent restaurant here that’s actually affordable.”
“Great!” Pamela said with a smile. “I’ll let you get to bed.”
“Good night.”
Tom turned and hurried through the maze of slot machines. To his surprise, he saw Jamie still standing in the elevator bay. Tom smiled and approached. The door opened and Jamie, who hadn’t noticed him, entered the elevator. Tom followed.
Tom is a skeptic. He's been bought up to question everything and to follow the lead of science. Although, he hadn't always been a skeptic. When he was little, he used to love reading The Bollingbrook Babbler. A local news-sheet which printed fantastical tales of the Mayor of Bollingbrook and his heroic deeds in keeping earth safe from alien colonists. He'd keep the village safe from weredeer - werewolves, but in deer form. It was what he looked forward to each week - until his parents introduced him to skepticism, that is.
As an adult and facing a bright future as a journalist at the Bollingbrook Star, Tom is attending a convention of skeptics - in particular Habencon - a convention for followers of a skeptic named Reese Habenstein. Tom is a huge fan, and has followed him since his parents introduced him to skepticism. It's at this convention that Tom meets a myriad of like minded people, including a man named Matthew Bennett. Bennett persuades Tom that absolutely no one is out of his league, and all he has to do is ask for what he wants. Feeling somewhat bolstered by this great academic, Tom follows a woman called Jamie Kyle into an elevator and propositions her. The fallout that follows see's a stratospheric fall from grace for Tom, and a whole lot of anger at women proclaiming to be feminists.
While this makes The Rift: A Bollingbrook Babbler Story sounds like it's full of pretty heavy debates and arguments, don't be put off. It does have a very heavy theme running through out it, but it also has a lot of wry and dry humour. There's moments in it where you think 'what on earth just happened?' And moments that have you feeling angry at Tom, Jamie and every other minor character who spout fundamentalist views - whether they're anti-feminist or even anti-man. What the main theme is though, is that you should always listen to both sides. To put ones ego aside and to understand all and everything that's being discussed in detail. Not everything is always as it seems at first glance and if you take in information when in an emotional state, you won't actually understand the real intent behind the words.
This book isn't an attack on feminist ideals - which is what I thought as I started reading it. It's not even an attack on the extreme patriarchy. It's simply a wry observation of the way words and intentions can be misconstrued and the disastrous results that could follow.
S. A.