Message from Tomorrow
H. Bradley Stucki
Copyright March 2015. All rights reserved.
Smashwords Edition
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or if it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Chapter 1
Andre Manus sat in the dark basement of his gothic-style mansion at the metal desk where he’d spent the last 3 years working, sweating, and making history. The only light came from a Tensor lamp shining a pool of illumination onto the hard desk surface. It highlighted four magazines spread out in front of him.
Andre’s picture was on the cover of each magazine; a symbol of his recent triumph of cracking the code and bringing on the next new revolution in computing science.
The Wired magazine cover read, “A New Einstein for our Age.” Computing magazine heralded, “Different Dimensions to Infinite Speed.” Inc. magazine blazoned, “Computing Fortune Blown Open.” And the one Andre was most proud of, Popular Science, read, “Breakthrough of the Century!”
Andre had made an evolutionary leap in computing. He'd found a way to process information instantaneously no matter how large or complex. It entailed sending that information into Space-Time; have it processed there then moved back into normal Space-Time as output. Since Space-Time existed in different dimensions from our regular Space-Time, it seemed as if no time had elapsed in the processing of the information. Now huge amounts of data and intricate and complex problems could be solved. The only time it took was in compiling the questions and assembling the relevant data. The computing power and time required would no longer be a barrier.
Yes, he’d done that. By all rights Andre should be proud. And he definitely was. The world was his. He owned the key to it all. Offers had poured in and he'd turned them all down, opting instead, with his wife, Krissy as his business partner, to start their own company and control the new technology themselves. Virtually overnight they were mega-rich.
Yet it all was overshadowed by one stupid mistake. One mistake that had cost him everything!
His daughter had been killed in an auto accident. His wife had collapsed with grief and kicked him out of their new home and her life. His board of directors had learned he’d allowed his secret process, the basis of all his work, to be stolen, and they’d kicked him out of his own company and filed charges with the FBI. None of them cared he was just as much a victim as they were.
Next to the spread of magazines on his desk just outside the halo of light sat a black, metallic object. Andre reached for it, pulling it into the light. The 9mm pistol had one bullet in the chamber. Its feel was much heavier than its actual weight. He’d purchased it for protection with his new-found fame. Now it would be protection from his guilt, shame and stupidity!
It had started out like a miracle -- since his breakthrough discovery.
The first thing he had done was show his wife, Krissy. She was his partner -- his actual business partner. They'd met at Hartford College. It was cliché, but Andre had been a starting defensive back on the football team. Krissy had been a cheerleader. The cliché stopped there. Andre was a computer science major at the top of his class. Krissy had been an MBA student.
Andre's stress relief had been computer gaming. Krissy had good-naturedly joined in. When Andre complained about the deficiencies he saw in the computer games he loved, Krissy teased him with, "Stop complaining and do something nerdy about it!"
Andre did. As part of his senior project he'd developed a gaming processor that sped up computing to the point that games he liked to play could be made more realistic.
Krissy, realizing what Andre had accomplished, had taken that project and with her business acumen and education, sold the process to a multi-national chip manufacturer. With a battery of attorneys, Krissy negotiated the deal, got them a huge initial payment and royalties thereafter. They went right from signing the final contract to the marriage chapel. What better way to celebrate the deal of a lifetime?
After the honeymoon, they'd found an old gothic style mansion in Hartford, purchased it and set Andre up with his own laboratory in the basement. The deal was Andre would play with his computers and continue developing processes and products that suited his fancy. Krissy would manage their fortune. If anything else surfaced from what Andre did they would capitalize on it again as before.
Time went on. They had a child, a beautiful daughter whom they named Allison. She was totally a Daddy's girl with no complaint from Andre. Both parents dotted on her with no mercy. And they made a pact to attend every play, every recital and every important event together for their daughter.
Through the next 13 years they'd lived life and been happy.
Then lightning struck a second time. Andre made the breakthrough of the century! He’d achieved the instantaneous processing via Space-Time computing.
He and Krissy had set up a plan for extensive testing just to make sure. Once that was done, Krissy called the attorneys then called the chip manufacturers and arranged for a demonstration. From then on it was a whirlwind of activity: meetings, more demonstrations, applications, lawyers, contracts, offers and negotiations, company formation, production, applications, more lawyers and setting up an entirely new company to manage the new technology.
This time, rather than simply licensing the technology as they’d done before, they decided to keep it close. To not reveal it, but to form a company that would manufacture the processor in a completely self-contained module they then would sell. No one else would have access to the technology. It would integrate seamlessly into any system through the existing ports and connections for just about any type of computational device.
For security, so the processor couldn’t be broken into and reverse engineered, they developed a sophisticated booby trap that destroyed the whole module if it were compromised in any way.
Money started pouring in. Lots of it. Then came new offices, a new laboratory, the seminal articles and publicity ad-nauseam.
On and on it went; ever higher and brighter.
He and Krissy purchased a new estate, acquired new cars, new clothes and a lot of new friends. All the while they struggled to keep an even keel and remain ‘real’ with their old friends.
Allie, now 16, had been ecstatic at all the new possibilities. Still, she’d been worried too. She didn’t want to change, but her old friends -- and the new friends who’d appeared -- wouldn’t let her ‘not’ change. Yet it was something they felt they could cope with as a family. They just had to hang together and ride the wave until things settled down.
But the wave kept growing with expanding applications of Andre’s work. It seemed Andre’s fame and wealth would spiral upward with no end in sight.
Then came the day . . .
Chapter 2
“Sir, your 9:00 appointment is here,” his assistant said. She ushered in a tall, slender man in a grey pin-striped suit and silk lavender shirt and dark bow tie. He strode forward, his right hand brushing down his small, black mustache that reminded Andre of the TV detective, Hercule Poirot, even to the short black hair parted in the middle and the round spectacles sitting on his nose. In his left hand he carried an obviously expensive leather satchel. Andre struggled to keep from smiling.
“Hello, Andre. Thanks so much for seeing me. I’m Frederick Bombast.”
“Of course you are.” Andre stood and shook the proffered hand. He smiled inwardly. This was a b
it like the image he’d pictured from his phone voice a little over a week ago; slightly nasally, cultured but sparkly with enthusiasm.
His assistant turned and pulled the door shut behind her.
“Please, sit,” Andre gestured to one of two chairs sitting across from his desk. Andre took his seat in the executive chair behind his desk. He had to admit, he felt a little humor at his guest’s appearance – and the name.
“Yes, it’s my real name,” Frederick said, taking a seat and crossing his legs. “I legally changed it some years back. I feel the name needs to represent the person, and this one suits, don’t you think?”
“So far,” Andre admitted.
“Now that’s out of the way,” Frederick said, “I know you’re busy, so I’ll get right to it.” He reached down and pulled four magazines out of his satchel and spread them across the desk. Each had Andre's picture on the cover with various captions. Andre recognized them all. “I mentioned over the phone I’m a Public Relations executive with Gruber and Associates out of New York. I know we don’t do your company’s PR work, but I want something more personal from you. It’s something that quite frankly, is our specialty.”
Andre raised his eyebrows. This voice and attitude was just like the man on the phone; the directness, the flamboyance and assumption of success.
"I want to do your autobiography, but in a revolutionary way. You have revolutionized computing, so whatever we do needs to match, to rise to that same level. I’m thinking we do something that crosses all platforms, is all encompassing and uses all media. You’re success has brought in a whole new era in computing. We need to do the same with your autobiography. It can’t just be a simple book! No, it has to be a combination of electronic text, video clips – like a mini documentary, and interactive components!"
Andre's eyebrows rose again.
"You're the man of the hour!" Frederick continued leaning forward. He tapped his finger on the closest magazine. "Everyone wants to know all about you, what makes you tick, how you think, even what you wear. Gruber and Associates thinks now is the time for something like this. And if you do it yourself it will provide a more personal angle. Of course, I'll be here the whole way to make it happen." He smiled and sat back, crossing his legs. "What do you say?"
Andre was silent for a moment. “I have a contract with my company that stipulates I have to get approval for anything like this. Our processes are sensitive, and we need to vet any communications very closely.”
“I understand completely. No problem. I expect that. However,” Frederick leaned forward again. “What I have in mind is so different it would be hard to explain in a proposal. What I’m suggesting is we do a mock-up of the project first, and then present it to your board. We’ll show them rather than tell them. Nothing will go out to the public without their express consent so you’re following the agreement. It’s done all the time in pitching projects like these.“
Andre was hesitant. He was flattered, but . . ."I'm not sure I have to time to do a project like this. Besides, I'm not really comfortable sharing. It's a secret process, you know."
"Of course it is! And that's why people will stampede to get it. We'll dangle bits and pieces here about your work process, your personal philosophy, and how you think. Readers will devour it hoping to glean something to point them in the direction of the 'great secret.'
"Don't worry about time. We'll meet daily for an hour or two, say over lunch. You have to eat anyway. I'll interview you. I’ll do some video clips with my phone. I have some things in mind for some sample interactive bits; creativity tests, personality tests and such. They’re always a hit. And fun.
“You won’t have to worry about a thing other than just answering questions. I'm good at drawing out what we'll need." He smiled in a way that was professional but just a touch predatory. "We'll record everything," Frederick continued ignoring Andre's reaction. "Transcriptionists will type it out and I have an editor waiting to put it all into order and make sense. What could be simpler?
"Besides, it will make you seem more approachable and common. People will be more accepting of the changes you've brought. There are those who are resisting this, you know. Most don't like change. And you, Mister, are change personified."
Andre was flattered. He knew he shouldn't be. Something in the back of his mind told him this Frederick Bombast might be trouble. He was forceful, and not likely to take no for an answer.
"Oh, one more thing," Frederick said. “We may not even want to bring this up with your wife. I want her on board and like I said, it’s really hard to explain the vision without having the preview. I want her to wait and see the preview so she can get a feel for it before deciding. I know she’s your business partner, you see. But I also know she’s more pragmatic than you. Not as creative. We don’t want her to squelch anything until she gets the full picture.
“And again, I assure you,” Frederick held up his hand to forestall any objection. “Nothing is going out to the public until everyone necessary is on board. In fact, I have a contract right here that says just that, so you are completely covered.” He reached into his satchel and pulled out a short document.
Andre was taken aback. Frederick reached across the desk and patted his hand. "It's done all the time with superstars. We know the hoops we need to jump through and we do it well. There's really no risk or downside for you or your company."
"My wife and daughter . . . we want to keep our lives private. It's been tough, and this will only make it harder."
"Remember, you'll have full control. We won't discuss anything beyond the basics if you don't want, but remember. Everyone craves a good love story. I understand you and Krissy were college sweethearts? We've got to cover that even if it's only surface stuff. And Allie is a new American Princess! I think she'd love that title, don't you?"
Andre laughed. "Allie would hate that."
"You'd be surprised; a sixteen year old girl being crowned a legitimate princess? What girl wouldn't want that? Daddy, you would be a hero ten times over."
"I really think I should at least talk this over with Krissy," Andre said, feeling it was probably going to be a mistake.
“What do you think she’d say based on what we’ve discussed so far?”
Andre was silent a moment, thinking.
“If I remember my research right,” Frederick continued. “Weren’t you a candidate for the NFL Draft?”
Andre was startled by the change in topic.
“Yes. I was told I just missed being drafted by about one spot.”
“Didn’t you consider being a walk-on for a team that had shown some interest?”
“You’ve really done your homework, and yes. I considered being a walk on.”
"Why didn’t you? It might have changed the course of history and you might be on a completely different path.”
“Krissy talked me out of it. She said I would be happier working with my computers and being closer to her and family. The life of an NFL player isn’t as great as it’s made out to be.”
“Was she right?” Frederick sat back again clasping his hands in his lap and crossing his legs.
Andre was silent for a moment, considering. “Yes, of course she was right. I probably never would have made the discovery if I’d been playing. And I would never have been able to spend the time I do with her and Allie.”
“But still you wonder what it might have been like. That was your real dream, wasn’t it?”
Andre was silent.
“Look,” Frederick said, once more leaning forward and clasping his hands in front of him on the desk. “Give me two weeks to get enough information for the prototype. Just two weeks of keeping this between us, and then we’ll be ready to show everyone. What do you say?”
Again, Andre remained silent, then nodded.
"I've got a copy of the contract for your review and approval. You can make any changes you like prior to signing. I know Krissy and Allison will approve once they see the whole project and i
ts potential. Let's start tomorrow morning at 11:00. We'll go through lunch and you can get back to work by 1:00. We'll keep to that schedule. I’ll have enough in two weeks to put together something fantastic! It won't take long after that to get you the first preview then we can go from there. I’m sure you won’t regret it.
"Here's an outline of how we'll go through this. Each evening, you can go over things and make some personal notes to keep things moving along." He handed several pages across the desk.
Andre set aside the contract to look at later. Then he looked at the outline sheets. He read: Vital stats, birth, early years, school performance, favorite subjects, favorite teachers, activities, early girlfriends? Then it graduated through his life, schooling, and business life. Maybe this won't be as bad as I think. I'll have control, and I'll make sure Krissy and Allie check off on everything once they are in the loop.
"If I don't hear from you I'll see you tomorrow at 11:00. Keep these for inspiration." Frederick gestured to the magazines spread on his desk.
"Thank you for your time," He said, standing and whisking out of the room like a force of nature.
Chapter 3
Frederick settled himself onto the bed of his downtown hotel suite. He picked up his specially constructed mobile phone and punched in a number. He hadn't put it in speed dial for security reasons. He also had a program that wiped the number the instant the call was concluded. A monotone voice answered. Frederick could tell it was electronically camouflaged. That was expected. He’d insisted upon it.
“Yes,” said the voice on the other end.
“Scramble.” Frederick said, knowing his voice was also being electronically masked. There was no way anyone could take a voice print from either side of the conversation. He pushed a button on his phone scrambling his side.
Message From Tomorrow Page 1