EMOTION MARKET: the Tailor of Hearts - A gripping psychological thriller

by Dimitris Chasapis

  After a moment, the screen behind the President of PATOTTM came to life. A shot of an industrial skyline came into focus. A crowd was gathered in front of the buildings. Police and uniformed personnel stood about officially in a protective semi-circle, keeping the crowd at bay. In the middle of that semi-circle, standing on a small platform behind several microphones was John Walters, the President of the United States of America.

  “Hello PATOTTM!” President Walters shouted energetically into the microphone. The PATOTTM conference responded immediately and burst into applause once more. The President wasn’t a tall man, if anything his height was below average, but he was a man whose every fibre radiated absolute power. It was clear when he spoke that he commanded absolute attention. It was the reason that he had become the President of the United States, and it was infectious.

  President Walters waved at the crowd, acknowledging their applause graciously and patiently waiting to speak once more.

  It wasn’t long before everybody quieted down to hear what their President had to say.

  “My my, you really are all in high spirits!” the President joked. The employees of PATOTTM laughed genuinely.

  “What a pleasure to talk to you all this evening,” he continued. “I’m so sorry I could not be there in person. I was discussing affairs with our good friends in Beijing until moments ago. I fear even the presidential jet wouldn’t have been able to make the trip back in time!” More laughter. This time more out courtesy to their President than anything else.

  Mike turned to smile at Ethan. Ethan looked down at his son and thought how it warmed his heart to see the young boy so happy. He smiled back and put his arm around him, giving his shoulder a squeeze.

  “I won’t keep you long. I know you are all eager to get back to the champagne and the festivities. I asked the good President of PATOTTM if he would permit me to say a few words to you lovely people because I just really wanted to tell you all that you truly embody all that is good about America. With PATOTTM and its employees working so hard and so earnestly, I can rest easy at night knowing the future of America is safe. This beautiful nation may be subject to darkness and terror at times, but forces like PATOTTM are the light that keeps that darkness away. I applaud you PATOTTM. America is proud of you.”

  At that he started to applaud into the camera, smiling his winning presidential smile. The crowd started clapping along with him, each person bursting with American pride.

  Ethan could hear some urgent clicking coming from the back of the ballroom. He turned around to see a severe looking older woman surrounded by a team of reporters and cameramen. She was barking out instructions and concentrating heatedly on the President’s speech. The clicking was coming from one of the men who was taking photos rapidly, hoping for a front page shot for their paper. Ethan shook his head and turned back around to face the front. His attention was waning. The President looked like he was nearly finished, which was something.

  “Finally, I just wanted to pay my respects to the lovely and impressive woman who has been the backbone of the Emotion Market and hopefully so many other world-saving initiatives in the future. Thank you Dr. Caroline Emerson, from the bottom of my heart for all that you do for America. You are a true American, my dear! I wish you all a wonderful evening, and may you continue to do all that you do for the betterment of our great country. God bless America.”

  The screen went black as soon as he had finished speaking, in what had obviously been a pre-planned manoeuvre. Everybody started to applaud again briefly before the President of PATOTTM held up his hands to show people that he wished to speak again, silencing the ballroom once more.

  “Thank you Mr. President,” he said to nobody in particular as the connection to the President had already been cut off. “And now, it is a great honor for me to introduce you all to the very special lady who is one of the reasons that we are all here this evening. She’s the woman who has been the driving force behind Emotion Market – its creator! Please put your hands together for Dr. Caroline Emerson!”

  He separated out the last three words, emphasizing them individually and elongating Caroline’s last name as if he was introducing a prize boxer in the title fight. Ethan rolled his eyes at the PATOTTM executive as the crowd once more showed their appreciation for Caroline. Slowly Caroline stood up, clutching her speech nervously to her chest. Ethan sat up in his seat to give Caroline his full attention. This was the part of the conference he had really been looking forward to. Caroline’s brilliance and modesty amazed him. She had, without a doubt, one of the greatest scientific minds in the country, but she wanted none of the glory. She looked like she wanted this whole thing to be over so that she could go home, get into her pajamas and pour herself a glass of wine. He loved that about her. She started to speak and gradually settled into a rhythm as she recited the speech she had clearly practiced thousands of times in her bathroom mirror.

  “Thank you all… so very much… It is a great honor for me to be invited to address the PATOTTM annual conference. I express my deepest gratitude for PATOTTM’s support and belief in my medical research and its potential value to the life of humans.”

  Caroline went on with a brief mention of modern Neurology Science trying her best to keep it simple. This surely was no easy task and although she put an effort not to confuse the audience, it wasn’t long before she spotted a woman in the front rows yawning endlessly. Her speech obviously wasn’t working well for all and the last thing she wanted in her few minutes of glory was to bore them.

  “But enough with scientific neurology terms! I trust that most of you have heard all about Emotion Markets by now. I know for a fact that many among you have your doubts about the whole idea and I respect that. After all, as many people like to think, I have indeed the moral obligation and the ethical responsibility regarding the Emotion Market medical tech. Blame me if you must but please allow me to clarify some of the misconceptions about how the emotional invasive procedure works…”

  Jacob Lafarge was smiling triumphantly from a distance. He had done his part in order to get this specific statement from Caroline Emerson. It was a big relief that he knew ‘A’ was listening to this from his far, secret location! The primal letter on the alphabet would be appreciative of Jacob’s delivery. It surprised him that the good doctor was actually willing to resume responsibility on just about anything! Effortlessly done…

  Caroline went on with the most appealing part of her speech.

  “I can’t stress enough the importance of the fact that one doesn’t forget when undergoing an EIP. Oblivion is NOT what this tech provides. It’s more of an emotional filter to the selected emotions. A filter that allows people to go on with their lives with a modified emotional intensity. This applies to adjustments on both good and bad emotions. And now allow me to address a very common problem. The problem of happiness! People often ask me with excitement if they can actually buy happiness in an Emotion Market. My answer is quite disappointing for them. You can, I tell them, but it won’t last…

  You see, happiness is a state of being rather than a separate emotion. I mean, it is an emotion, but one that counteracts with all others accordingly. It is vital for everyone to understand that happiness can be measured and modified but only for a very short period of time. One has to be emotionally balanced in their life in order to achieve long-lasting happiness. What I like to say to those who ask me this, is that we can construct our own happiness! Brick by brick! It’s a long procedure that mostly involves being aware of one’s emotional needs in order to be happy. Paraphrasing a famous song from the past gives an excellent piece of advice…

  Listen to your heart… Listen to it! It’s always calling for you!

  If we take the time to do so, it becomes clear after a while what we need to do. It becomes very clear indeed which emotions of ours need modifying. It’s our own emotional deficiencies that keep us from experiencing happiness in all its forms and the first step to healing is to become our own friend! That
is what my research has been all about. The construction of happiness within!”

  Nervous little mousy girl. Mr. Keenan shifted in his seat in the back of the ballroom. He scanned the audience. He caught sight of Ethan a few rows ahead of him, on the edge of his seat and hanging on every word that Caroline said. Handsome man likes mousy girl. Handsome man and mousy girl will have handsome, mousy children, he thought, smiling at the notion. He leaned down and touched the briefcase, which was resting on the floor between his legs, for reassurance as he repositioned his weight anxiously on the chair.

  Susan’s jaw was aching because she had been smiling for so long. She longed for this to be over. She planned to tell Ms. Sanchez to take Mike home as soon as the speeches were over. She hoped that Ethan would go with them. Then she could go to Jacob’s apartment. Maybe he would run her a bubble bath. Jacob was her campaign manager. He was also her boyfriend. She had started staying over at his place because he lived so close to the office. It had made sense when they had been working late on the campaign. It hadn’t taken long for a sexual relationship to start between them. She had always been attracted to him. The only reason she had taken him on, rather than hire one of the other, more qualified campaign managers who had applied for the position, was his looks. She bit her lip now as she imagined his big arms around her. She loved the danger and risk of sneaking around. She realized with annoyance that Caroline’s doddery old mother was audibly weeping with emotion in response to her daughter’s moving words.

  She looked up at Caroline, whose speech was coming to an end. The dull little thing is actually not doing too badly. Credit where credit is due, Susan acknowledged, crossing her legs in such a way that always made men look at her with desire. I’m going to take over the world, she thought to herself, smiling like a Cheshire cat.

  Ethan was entirely taken by Caroline. He was totally enraptured by her speech. She had so much substance. He loved how she wasn’t just another superficial bimbo. And she was intelligent. He looked over at Mike and Ms. Sanchez to see if they were as taken with Caroline’s speech as he was. Both of them had fallen asleep. Ms. Sanchez’ head flopped back against the headrest, her mouth hung open and her tongue lolled about as if it had a mind of its own. She had never been able to handle her booze. Her legs were splayed outwards in a most unladylike fashion. Even the red dress had failed to preserve her sex appeal. Ethan noticed a messy wine stain stretching the whole way down her front. It looked like the party was nearly over for the three of them. He would have to take them home as soon as the conference was over. He smiled affectionately at this woman who had become like a part of the family in the years that she had been with them. Sometimes he thought he knew her better than he knew his own wife. His attention was brought back to himself as the room started to applaud. He looked quickly back to the front of the room just in time to see Caroline taking her bow. At that she turned around and went back to her seat. Ethan cursed himself for missing the last words of Caroline’s speech. No matter. He would try to catch her to congratulate her before he took the two sleeping souls home. He reached over to wake them now as the President of PATOTTM got back up to close the conference.

  There was a slight feeling of restlessness throughout the ballroom as the last words of the conference were said. Everybody was either ready to go home or to a party. A commotion broke out towards the back of room as two members of the crowd, who must have been a little too eager to move on, started to squabble and fight together. General mutterings and groans of disapproval permeated throughout the ballroom.

  Suddenly, the woman who had been involved in the skirmish let out a piercing scream which cut to the bone of everyone in the room.

  “GUN!” somebody cried out desperately. The room erupted in a blind panic. People pushed and shoved to try and clear their way to the nearest exit. That didn’t last long. Mr. Keenan held his Bizon SMG submachine gun in the air and fired off several rounds.

  “SHUT UP!” he shrieked manically. The silence was immediate and deafening. He moved out from his row and walked as if in a crazed daze up towards the stage.

  He found his way blocked by an FBI agent who had drawn his firearm. Without breaking stride, Mr. Keenan sprayed the agent with several rounds from the Bizon. He was killed instantly, his lifeless body collapsing violently to the floor. A woman nearby let out a whimper! Mr. Keenan whirled around and opened fire on her before she could make another sound. He had clearly used a weapon many times before.

  Nobody else made a move. The whole room was rooted to the ground by a ripping fear. Death hung in the air like thick, black tar.

  Mr. Keenan continued to make his way wildly to the stage as if his journey there hadn’t been interrupted at all. For a man who had seemed so normal and presentable a moment ago, he now no longer looked human. A smile was plastered on his face as if it had been painted on with clown makeup. His eyes looked like they might pop out of his head if they went any wider. Flecks of spittle could be seen on the corners of his mouth. He breathed loudly, laboriously. He was sweating.

  Ethan recognized the man from earlier that day. He followed Mr. Keenan’s alien gaze all the way to the stage. His heart stopped and he nearly cried out as he saw who Mr. Keenan was looking at. He was heading straight for Caroline. Ethan couldn’t stand by and watch. He stood up and started pushing his way towards the end of his row. The others there hissed earnestly at him, telling him to stop. Someone grabbed his jacket to refrain him, afraid that he would draw the gunman’s attention on to them next. Ethan pulled forcefully away. He looked up desperately. He wasn’t going to make it. Keenan was nearly there. He looked on in horror as the insane gunner raised the Bizon once more.

  “HEY!” he called out desperately, in an attempt to do anything to distract Mr. Keenan. His shout echoed in the massive ballroom. Mr. Keenan stopped and looked around briefly. In that split second, several things happened. Another FBI agent made a move on the gunman. Mr. Keenan fired in the agent’s direction, missing the agent but hitting some other poor soul in the crowd. The scream from that victim’s partner broke the spell that had settled over everyone. The FBI agent lost his courage and dropped his pistol, falling on all fours to try and protect himself from another shot. Jane Emerson leaped to her feet, quicker than seemed to be possible for a woman of her age, and threw herself towards the killer who was aiming at Caroline once more, needing to protect her daughter who was the obvious target. Mr. Keenan met her with the butt of his gun. There was a sickening crunch as Jane’s nose broke loudly. She crumpled to the floor, clutching her bloodied face. Mr. Keenan fired into her body at point blank range. Caroline was watching helplessly, and let out a deafening howl as she saw her mother being murdered. This brought Mr. Keenan’s attention back on to her. Ethan broke into a run, but he was still on the other side of the room. There was too much distance to cover. Mr. Keenan looked, aimed and pulled the trigger. Ethan cried out but realized quickly that Caroline hadn’t been the attacker’s target after all. The President of PATOTTM fell lifelessly against his chair, dark blood blooming through his charcoal suit like a wild rose. Mr. Keenan whipped around to face the crowd. Panic flashed across his eyes. He had completely lost control. People were getting away. He raised the submachine gun once more and fired hazardously into the fray, killing or injuring countless others. At that moment, his eyes locked with Ethan’s. Ethan saw blame register in the killer’s eyes. Ethan had become responsible for all the mayhem when he had shouted. Mr. Keenan started running towards Ethan, training the Bizon towards him. Ethan didn’t move, knowing he couldn’t hope to outrun the gunman. He stared defiantly forwards and prepared to die. He heard the shot. After a second he realized it hadn’t come from Mr. Keenan. The tall man reeled and was propelled forward partly by the momentum and partly from the impact of the shot that had been fired into his back. His gangly limbs tangled up and sprawled into a heap on the ground. Standing behind him was an FBI agent, the pistol that had finally killed Mr. Keenan still raised and ready. At that, the agent l
et his arm drop limply by his side.

  Despair filled the ballroom. Sounds of women wailing for the loss of their loved ones blended together into one unified expression of misery. The injured cried out in pain.

  Ethan looked around at the destruction. Tears fell silently down his cheeks as his brain registered the scenes before him. He looked frantically around for Mike and Ms. Sanchez, realizing he hadn’t seen them since the commotion had begun. He spotted them, crying and clutching each other for support. He ran over to wrap his arms around them both.

  Two children frantically called to their father who was lying still on the floor, never to move again. A woman moaned in agony, clutching her arm which hung uselessly beside her. Ethan left Mike and Ms. Sanchez to kneel down and comfort her. He wondered if the police had been called. Screens lay smashed on the floor. Chairs had been upturned. The scene was chaos. More than a few people sat in stunned silence in the middle of the floor, unable to process what had just happened. Others were on phones to loved ones, telling them how much they loved them. Some of the younger generation were taking videos of the scene which would surely be played on the news that evening.

  There was so much blood. A nasty looking pile of the stuff not too far from Ethan had turned a crusty brown. Nearby, more blood oozed from a man who had suffered a severe chest wound. His breaths were quick and shallow. Ethan knew the man would die if he wasn’t seen to shortly. He ran over to him, taking off his jacket as he went. He held the jacket to the man’s chest, trying to stem the flow.

  “Tell me about your family,” Ethan said to the man, whose eyes had started to glaze over, trying to distract the man, to get him to focus.

  “I have two little girls, twins,” the man whispered.

  “What are their names?” Ethan asked, keeping the pressure on the man’s wound.