“To put it all in context,” said Flynn, “our company divisions have been given relatively simple names. The Matter division seeks to determine influences over matter, whether they be magnetic, gravitational or mental. Of course, mental is the process that we are primarily investigating, the other two are completely ancillary. Our goal is to find out how effective the mental process is in influencing matter and how best it can be amplified.”
Fred was dubious. “Ok, please help me understand the mental process as far as its influence on matter.”
“Well, I think the explanation will be much easier if I show you.”
Flynn took Fred into a large room. The entire room was painted an institutional battleship grey. The room contained two metal reverse pyramid structures with a series of small black and white balls at the top of each pyramid. Two counting machines had been placed to the left and right of each device. The two pyramids were fashioned from similar construction techniques, except one was much larger than the other. At the bottom of each of the contraptions were two deep metal bins which Fred assumed were used to catch the falling balls.
Flynn said, “This small machine is really very simple. It consists of 100 balls held in place at the top by a metal gate. It’s precisely balanced so that under natural conditions, as I release the gate, the balls will follow a random distribution pattern as they fall thru the chute below. We have enclosed the room so that it is free from drafts and other external influences. We also have a simple counting machine that tells us how many balls fell into both the right and left bottom bins.”
He released the balls and gradually they fell to the left and right of the contraption. Fred looked at the mechanical count; it was exactly equal at a 50-50 distribution.
Fred said, “That’s not exactly amazing, is it?”
“No a 50/50 ratio would be the most probable outcome; on any individual release, the distribution of balls actually follows the pattern of a simple bell curve with only a minimal variance from the 50/50 occurrence. But now observe this!”
He returned the balls to their position at the top of the reverse pyramid and released them once again. This time Fred noticed that Flynn was deeply concentrating on the balls as they were being released.
Again the balls fell, but this time it became obvious that a higher percentage were falling into the right bin. Fred checked the counter. It registered 76 in the right bin, and 24 in the left.
“How did you do that?” Fred asked.
“It was simply mental concentration. I just willed the balls to go into the right bin.”
“But 24 of them still wound up in the left bin.”
“True. But that represents the limit of my current ability. When I started here five years ago, I could only achieve an average 55/45 distribution. My skills have materially increased since that time, and with practice will continue to increase in the future.”
Fred was startled by what he had witnessed, but he still didn’t comprehend how this could help national security. “Well” Fred said, “I guess this would make a great carnival trick, but what else?”
Flynn, showing his disappointment with Fred’s indifferent evaluation of the results of the test said, “Come on. Let me show you a couple more things.”
He led Fred to the second pyramid. The balls resting at the top appeared much larger than those on the first pyramid. Fred said, “These balls look larger than the previous ones. But, do they weigh more than the others?”
“These are 1/2 pound each. Each ball in the first pyramid weighed only an ounce.”
Flynn released the balls and again they fell in a natural random distribution of 50 into each bin. Then Flynn repeated the experiment concentrating as the balls were released. This time Fred observed that a majority were falling into the right bin. The final count was 55/45.
Fred said, “You were not nearly as successful.”
“No,” Flynn said. “The additional weight of the balls decreases my effectiveness; but the results are still well beyond that of a random occurrence. Now, please witness the next demonstration.”
Flynn called in one of his co-workers, Curt Lee. He said, “We will release the balls once again; but this time Mr. Lee and I will both concentrate on them as they fall. Curt, let’s will the balls into the left bin.”
This time when the large balls fell, 60 of them had shifted to the left bin.
“You see, Lieutenant, this proves two things. The mind does have control over matter. And the more paranormal minds that focus on an object, the greater the ultimate control.”
Fred said, “I understand, and what you have done is amazing to me. But let me repeat; I’m still having a hard time understanding how this can ever help us with national security—or is that classified information?”
“Mr. Schultz called me and told me to give you a demonstration because he didn’t believe you had taken it all in when he talked to you. Here’s an organizational chart of the entire operation that might help you understand the macro aspects of what our company is all about.”
Flynn pulled a chart out of his desk which showed Schultz, as the CEO and President, in bold black letters dwarfing all the other components of the firm. Fred thought he would have expected nothing less than those giant sized letters associated with Schultz. Below Schultz’s name were five divisions. All reported directly to Schultz—Matter, Projection, Stealth, Reading, and Scientific.
Fred said “The divisional names seem to have very simple nomenclatures.”
Flynn smiled, “Yes that’s true, that’s the way Mr. Schultz wanted it. The names vaguely convey the purpose of the divisions without providing any added detail. I guess that’s so if an outsider is exposed to the names, they wouldn’t understand the real intent of the divisions.”
“Let me give you a brief explanation of each division starting with the Projection division. Projection’s role is to determine if we can find a way to accomplish distant viewing, using mental rather than mechanical or electronic methods.”
Fred was somewhat familiar with the concept, since he had talked to Schultz about it. “I see; and have you achieved any success?”
Flynn said “I would prefer you talk to personnel from that specific division about it.”
“OK, what about the other divisions?”
“Sure,” Flynn responded. “The Reading division deals with the ability to mentally uncover the images and thoughts resident in a subject’s mind. Perhaps you heard, a few years back, about a successful experiment with felines. Scientists were able to record numerous scenes depicting that which had moved directly in front of the subject cats.”
“How could that possibly have been accomplished?” Fred asked.
“It was accomplished simply by using the cat’s own neurons. Electrodes were implanted in the cat’s brain and the electrodes were hooked to a computer. The scenes that the cats observed were displayed by a computer screen. Of course, the displays did not have the level of clarity of what the cats saw, but the images were clear enough to roughly transmit the scene. By the way, that experiment was accomplished back in the 90’s. Our reading experiments are much further advanced now.
“But, let’s continue with the mission of our divisions. The Stealth Division deals with the concept of invisibility. They are working on two objectives, one is how to make a weapon system totally invisible from both radar and visual sightings; the other is how to make personnel invisible.”
Fred said, “Yes, I know about that division. Mr. Lyons gave me a briefing.”
“Finally,” said Flynn, “the Scientific Division consists of a neurologist and statisticians, as well as mechanical, computer and electrical engineers. The engineers actually help construct some of the devices we use for our experiments. Our neurologist attempts to identify the regions of the brain where our special capabilities reside. And then as a unit, they attempt to decode the neurological process.”
“That’s a tall order,” Fred said.
“Yes, it is, but long before
our company came into existence, the scientific community had created robots that think like man. In fact, in selective areas they reason better than man without all of our emotional baggage. As you know, a computer can now defeat any human chess master.
“Actually,” Flynn went on, “in the broadest sense, the human brain has three components, a segment that supports our reasoning processes, the involuntary system which keeps us alive, and a segment that supports our paranormal abilities. Neurologists have already mapped most regions of the brain and have been successful in reducing parts of our thinking process into a binary logic code. The next step will be to accomplish something comparable with the paranormal component.”
“Wait a minute. Before you continue, I didn’t think machines could think.”
“Of course they can. Do you remember Big Blue, the IBM computer that actually beat the Russian chess master? Machines proceed through the thinking process much as human minds do. They proceed from the unknown to the known and constantly adjust their programs to avoid mistakes of the past.”
“So let me try to paraphrase,” Fred begun, “your company’s mission is to use your organization’s special talents to develop a simple computer code?”
“No, no, not at all! In many cases, such as in remote viewing, we are attempting, through practice and repetition, to strengthen that process in the people that have such a capability. The same is true with mind reading capability. Ultimately we want to decode the process; but I suspect that is a long time away and perhaps impossible. Before we could undertake such a Herculean task, we would have to know a lot more as to how the brain is able to accomplish it. At least that’s what I understand, but of course that’s not my division. In the end, our customers want progress in whatever form it takes. We have to constantly demonstrate that progress to meet our contractual obligations.”
“I understand that Mr. Jackson was the division head of the division you now head up. And as you most likely know, he was killed in the downtown shooting.”
“Yes Lieutenant, it was a terrible thing. What are the odds of two of our division heads being terminated like that?”
Strange choice of words, Fred thought, that Flynn had used the term terminated rather than killed.
Responding to Flynn’s rhetorical questions, he said, “I don’t know, perhaps about the same odds as your being able to defy the laws of physics in your experiments.”
Fred realized that he hadn’t gotten anywhere with his real purpose for the interrogation and now the day was almost gone. He could rationalize that what he was doing was getting necessary background information; but he knew he had been captivated by the pure fantasy of what this company was attempting to do. He still didn’t understand how the various actions of the individual divisions would be of practical value to the secret agencies or single agency they were working for. He recalled the theory of Parkinson’s Law in which work expands to fill the time available. He believed there should be a corollary to that in which work expands to match the federal budget, regardless of the value of the activities undertaken. Fred wasn’t sure Schultz’s company was accomplishing anything of value, other than rapidly spending the rush of new monies allocated to the war on terror.
“I have two final questions, “said Fred. “Why did you submit a grievance against your boss?”
“Oh that! It really wasn’t a big deal, Lieutenant. Mr. Jackson had disapproved some trips that I had hoped to take. We resolved it amicably. He explained to me that he really needed my expertise in the office more than out on the road. I never should have filed the grievance. You can check with anybody, and they will tell you that we got along very well.”
“Do you know anybody that would want to kill your former boss?”
“I’m sorry; I wouldn’t have a clue. He didn’t make enemies easily; he had a low key approach to whatever he did, and his method of management was democratic. He really allowed us to do our own thing with minimal interference.”
Chapter 46
When he arrived home, Fred noticed an envelope under his screen door. There was no postmark; the address, written in bold red letters, stated, “To Lieutenant Fred Harris.” Fred said to himself, what the hell is this? He opened the envelope and removed its contents. It was a one-page note also written in red, apparently with a broad marker pen. It said, “Get off the murder cases or you will die.” It was signed The Marvel.
Well, he thought, some nut case had apparently gotten my address and decided to play some games with me. He crumpled it and dropped it in the waste basket on his way to the kitchen to feed Molly.
*
The chief was not at all pleased with Paul. He had received two recent reports from irate citizens as to how they had been treated. One complaint was from a 95-year-old man. The other related to an alleged suspect in the theater killing, whom Paul had roughed up at his house. That person turned out not to be a suspect at all. These were blatant errors by a person who was almost promoted to lieutenant, he thought. Damn it, I’ve continuously gone out on a limb for him, and this is the thanks I get? At the same time, Harris seems to be proceeding at glacier speed in his handling of his investigation. Isn’t there anyone on my staff who can do something right?
*
Paul and the theater ticket taker had resumed checking the list of people who had purchased flowers from Young’s. Paul was frustrated and doubting whether or not a suspect would ever be identified.
At the home of the tenth name on the list, a blonde woman opened the door.
Paul said “Miss, may I please speak to your husband?”
“What about?” she responded defensively. Paul was reluctant to reveal he was a police officer but felt he had no choice. He showed her his badge and said it was police business.
She said “OK,” closing the door behind her. After what seemed like an eternity a tall dark haired man in his late thirties came to the door. Silently reminding himself not to repeat his previous mistakes, Paul said, “Sir, we are—”
The ticket taker interrupted with, “That’s him! That’s him!” Paul wasn’t expecting verbalization from Carl; he was awaiting the distinct sound of the coughing signal. Paul was frozen; if he acted too quickly, he feared another embarrassing situation, too slowly and the man might overcome him. He screamed at Carl, “Are you sure, are you really sure this is the man?”
“Yes, no question.” Carl was shaking visibly.
Paul said to the man, “You are under arrest.” He read him his rights while handcuffing him. Paul’s hands were shaking. Success, he thought. Success at last! Now the chief will regret the day he decided not to promote me!
He forcefully placed the suspect in his patrol car and proceeded to the station, siren blasting all the way, a broad grin etched on his face.
*
Without knocking, and ignoring office protocol, Paul brought the suspect directly to the chief’s office. As he entered the office, unable to stifle his feelings, he said, smiling broadly, “Boss, guess who I have with me?”
“Let me guess—could it be Mr. Barry Shepard, the best defense attorney in the whole damn county?”
Paul said, “What?”
“You heard me, now what are you charging him with, Paul?”
“Well, Chief, he’s been identified as the theater murderer.”
“Are you insane? How did you come to that brilliant determination?”
Paul had been full of pride as he drove the suspect to the station; now he was embarrassed. “Well, the ticket taker at the theater identified him.” With false bravado, he added “And it was a positive identification—a totally positive identification!”
Ignoring Paul, the chief said, “Mr. Shepard, I have one simple question for you. Where were you between two and three p.m. on the afternoon of December the 3rd?”
Without blinking an eye, Shepard responded, “I attended an afternoon show of Hello Dolly at the Van Wezel. I was there all the time. I was in seat number 18 left, in the first row.”
“Thank
you. Now, Officer, please take the cuffs off Mr. Shepard and escort him home. And to you, Mr. Shepard, please accept my deepest personal apology for the great inconvenience that we have caused you.”
Paul was stunned. “But he has been identified, positively identified,” Paul offered, hoping to retain a modicum of self respect.
The chief frowned, “By a very impressionable young man, who was obviously terribly mistaken. Now, take Mr. Shepard home.” Shepard left the station yelling, “I am going to sue the whole damn bunch of you!”
After Paul left, the chief called in Fred. He told him what had just happened. He then said something that stunned Fred. “Fred, I think I am going to have to get rid of Paul. He was at one time one of my bright hopes for the future of this station, but he has made too many bad misjudgments lately. I just can’t have this.”
Fred found himself defending Paul, something he never thought he would have or want to do. “Sir, perhaps he’s feeling the pressure of the homicide investigations like the rest of us.”
The chief ignored Fred’s defense. “Well, we do have to at least go through the motions and check out Shepard’s alibi. I’m sure that a man with that much of a reputation and experience as an attorney, would not give us an alibi that isn’t rock solid. But I want you to verify it anyway.”
“No problem, but it’s almost 5 p.m. and the ticket office will be closed now; I’ll check it out tomorrow.”
“Well, I’ve already released Mr. Shepard—no rush, Fred.”
*
On the way back to Shepard’s house Paul was quiet. This was no time for talking anyway; Shepard was glaring at him all the way and the chief had apologized enough for both of them. Underneath Paul was seething. He didn’t know how, but he knew somehow Fred had something to do with the embarrassment he was suffering. I will get even with that bastard if it’s the last thing I do, he muttered to himself.
*
The next morning Fred went to the Van Wezel box office and asked them about the performance and who had purchased the seat number that Shepard had provided for his alibi. Barbra Hilton was the office worker who was responsible for the theater files. She came back with the information in a short time. “Oh, yes, here it is. The ticket was bought by Mr. Clark Conners. In fact, he has reserved seats 18 and 19 for the entire season.”
Mind Switch Page 19
