Once more ghost hunting became fashionable. People met online and discussed preferred methods. Mediumship wasn’t so lucky. No one could simply channel spirits any more. Electricity was the stuff of life, especially when coupled with water. Appointments were made. A clandestine meeting in a coffee shop, then a parking lot, finally ending in a neon-decorated motel’s VIP suite with a view that overlooked the all night express bus terminal. They took turns in the bath tub, the soap suds dissolving into the sound of hydraulic brakes. The hairdryer failed to spark in their wet hands. Maybe next time. Paracelsus for morons.