Influence

by Chris Parker

  influence

  CHRIS PARKER

  http://urbanepublications.com

  First published in Great Britain in 2014

  by Urbane Publications Ltd

  20 St Nicholas Gardens, Rochester

  Kent ME2 3NT

  Copyright © Chris Parker, 2014

  The moral right of Chris Parker to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act of 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  All characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available

  from the British Library.

  Paperback ISBN 978-1-909273-06-1

  Mobi ISBN 978-1-909273-07-8

  epub ISBN 978-1-909273-08-5

  Typeset at Chandler Book Design, King’s Lynn, Norfolk

  http://urbanepublications.com

  For ‘M’.

  Acknowledgements

  Marcus Kline, the world’s greatest communication guru, owes his existence to four people: Mairi, Alan, Matthew and IbA.

  Mairi helped bring him to life during two fabulous weeks in France.

  Alan provided great knowledge about campaigning communications and was instrumental in the selection of Marcus’s hair styling.

  Matthew ensured that this, the first part of Marcus’s story, is now in your hands.

  IbA started it all for me over thirty five years ago, when he first sparked my desire to learn how to read the lines on peoples’ faces.

  Also DCI Peter Jones, the great detective and

  Marcus Kline’s best friend, and I, are forever indebted to PJ for so many vital insights shared through so many wonderful evenings.

  And, finally, I would not have known how to get inside people’s heads without the medical expertise of Dr Ian Campbell. Whilst I am extremely grateful to Ian for his time and support, I am certain there are characters in the book that are not.

  Influence

  by

  Chris Parker

  ‘The worst pain isn’t physical.’

  Influence

  ‘A power affecting a person, thing, or course of events.’

  ‘To flow into; to produce an effect by imperceptible or intangible means.’

  Acknowledgements

  PART ONE

  Different Worlds

  It starts before it starts

  1.

  2.

  3.

  4.

  5.

  6.

  7.

  8.

  9.

  10.

  11.

  12.

  13.

  14.

  15.

  16.

  17.

  18.

  PART TWO

  Looking

  19.

  20.

  21.

  22.

  23.

  24.

  25.

  26.

  27.

  28.

  29.

  30.

  31.

  32.

  33.

  34.

  35.

  36.

  PART THREE

  Listening

  37.

  38.

  39.

  40.

  41.

  42.

  43.

  44.

  45.

  46.

  47.

  48.

  49.

  50.

  51.

  52.

  53.

  54.

  55.

  It ends after it ends

  PART ONE

  Different Worlds

  It starts before it starts

  Let me tell you the most important thing now, before everything else, before you start thinking too much.

  The most important thing is this:

  Influence is the ultimate resource.

  You were born with nothing. Knowing nothing. And from the moment you took your first breath the influence began.

  We create our power through our ability to influence.

  We create the power to understand, the power to change.

  We create our world and rule our planet not because we are the strongest animal, or the fastest or the most durable. No. We dominate because we are the most influential.

  And our influence is contagious.

  It is contagious because influence surrounds us whether we realise it or not. It enters through our eyes and ears, whether we mean it to or not. It seeps in through the very pores of our skin.

  It is contagious because our nature makes it so, because all human beings have an instinctive ability and desire to create associations and meanings.

  In simple terms we see a facial expression, we hear a tone of voice, we witness behaviours and we interpret them almost immediately – so fast that we don’t even recognise the process. We create the power we need to navigate life successfully through our ability and our need to create meaning.

  That means we are all open to influence.

  Which is why the most powerful people are those who have created meanings that most of us – meanings that you – buy into. Meanings about right or wrong. Meanings about how society is supposed to work. About how we are should relate to other humans. And how they should relate to us. Meanings about how we should look and what we should wear. Meanings about life and success and failure.

  You know these things. You have your own set of meanings. You believe you created them yourself.

  You are wrong. Pathetically, hopelessly wrong!

  You didn’t create the meanings that you spray out into the world in the same arrogant way that a cat pisses in every corner of its territory. You didn’t create them – they were installed in you by others.

  By the powerful people.

  People like me.

  They were planted in your subconscious.

  Left to grow.

  Think of the most powerful antenna in the world, one that never stops receiving signals. Now think – if you can – of something infinitely more receptive. Infinitely more switched on.

  That is your subconscious mind!

  Always open to influence.

  The hidden star inside the human brain.

  It runs the show – your show – without you even realising it. Forging your attitudes. Shaping your perceptions. Sparking your responses.

  Even when you fall in love, it is your brain – with the subconscious pulling strings from the shadows – that directs the process.

  You don’t fall in love with all of your heart.

  The human heart doesn’t have the capacity for such a complex creation as love. No, it is the brain, especially parts of the so-called reptilian brain, the primal part of your neural circuitry, which quite literally sprays out feelings of reward and need and desire when you tell yourself that you have found your perfect mate.

  Love is all in your head. Just like every other emotion.

  If that hurts just think about this: your subconscious
mind is at the very heart of your relationships with everyone and everything around you. It is even at the heart of your relationship with yourself.

  Only of course you can’t think about it. Not really. You believe you can. You might even feel that you are. Only that’s the left hemisphere of your brain talking. And that’s the side that does the obvious talking. It is responsible for words and logic, for naming things. It is the side that the neuroscientists call the Dominant Hemisphere.

  The arrogant bastard!

  Asked to name itself, the left hemisphere comes up with something that a dictator would be proud of. What makes me laugh is that the scientists haven’t even realised that the left hemisphere asked the question in the first place. And then it provided an answer designed to show its control over everything. And the scientists bought into it. They didn’t even realise they were being played. They didn’t consider the possibility that the left hemisphere was wrong. Or that it was lying. But how could they? There is no way the left hemisphere is going to ask those sort of questions about itself.

  All I ask – for now – is that you use your puny, self-serving conscious mind to focus on this one vital truth: the subconscious is the supreme, silent power source.

  The subconscious stores every influence that has ever found its way inside you. And then it, in turn, influences you in more ways than you can ever imagine. It influences you twenty four hours a day, seven days a week. It influences every minute, every second, of your life.

  I have seen life begin and I have seen life end.

  I have ended lives.

  So many different lives. I have watched the black cloud release itself. I have quite literally seen death.

  Now I have to kill again. And differently. After all, what is a researcher supposed to do? How else can I further my knowledge? How else can I develop my expertise?

  So, people have to die. They have been well chosen, I promise you. And they will die painlessly. I promise you that, too. I will prove my superiority. I will be neither stopped, nor caught. Instead I will fly. I will flow. I will find my way into your subconscious. I will live inside you. Influencing you. Whether you know it or not.

  You see, the subconscious connects us all.

  The subconscious is the deep current that runs through everything. It is the fathomless one. Happy to let the waves of consciousness crash above it. Deep in its own resolve and purpose.

  Running the show.

  At the very heart of us…

  1.

  ‘At the heart of everything actually. The subconscious is the silent programmer who really only wants to create associations that are best for its host. You see, every human being is being bombarded with literally millions of stimuli every second of their life. We are all dependent on this programmer sifting through the mass of information, deciding what our conscious mind should focus on, what it should ignore, what it needn’t even recognise. We are dependent on our subconscious doing all of this, non-stop, getting it right without ever being noticed, without ever getting in the way of our everyday business.’

  ‘So, in this book you are acting as the spokesman for this silent programmer?’

  ‘That would be an excellent way of describing it, yes.’ Marcus Kline leaned back against the red studio sofa and smiled in admiration at the insight and linguistic alacrity of the TV presenter. Spokesman for the silent programmer was exactly the phrase Marcus had wanted him to use. It had taken only three minutes to put the words into the other man’s mind – his subconscious to be precise – and for them to be encouraged out into the conscious awareness of the watching millions.

  The presenter matched Marcus’s smile. He had no choice. His ego had just been massaged irresistibly and he was following the lead Marcus had set from before they had gone on air. Without realising it, the presenter had been saying and doing only what Marcus required of him. Between them they were, Marcus mused, acting out a metaphor for the human brain. The presenter represented the left hemisphere – obvious, sure of his control and skill, enjoying his power. Marcus was the right hemisphere – subtle, his influence hidden below the surface, the ultimate power source. Only a genius in inter-personal communications could have watched the interplay between the two men and recognised what was happening.

  And the odds were stacked against that. In the minds of many of the watching audience the genius was here, in front of the cameras, his long, dark brown hair swept back, his right arm stretched out along the back of the sofa, his black Canali suit unbuttoned, his white Eton shirt open at the collar. Some of the audience – those business leaders, politicians and celebrities who were taking five minutes out of their very busy schedules to see Marcus make a rare TV appearance – had personal experience of the benefits of his genius, had been helped by him in ways that they valued enormously yet didn’t remotely understand.

  Marcus nodded, feigning thoughtful appreciation. ‘Spokesman for the silent programmer’, he repeated. ‘With your permission Charlie, I might just use that myself.’ As he spoke, Marcus crossed his left leg over his right and at the same time his left hand pulled briefly at the trouser crease on his left knee.

  ‘Be my guest.’ Charlie’s smile broadened. The fingers of his right hand tapped unconsciously against his right knee. ‘And with that it is time to say, “Thank you” to Marcus Kline, communications guru and author of “Associations: The Secret Way We Create Our Public Reality.” Guaranteed to be his next best seller, it is available from all good bookshops from today. Marcus, thank you. The silent programmer couldn’t have a better spokesman…’

  Whilst the viewing public were reminded of the latest news from their local region, Marcus let a young blond woman remove his microphone, signed Charlie’s copy of the book, “With best wishes – and many thanks for a great line!” and made his way out into the bustle of the city.

  2.

  ‘Christ, it’s busy!’ Nic Simpson slowed the grey Audi A6 to a halt. The queue of traffic ahead looked particularly dark and dispiriting in the early November morning.

  ‘It’s the rain that does it.’

  ‘It’s not the rain that causes the queue, it’s the way most people turn themselves into zombies in response to the rain!’

  Peter Jones forced himself to smile at his lover’s irritation. He forced himself to smile the kind of tolerant smile used only between two people who share intimate secrets. The kind of smile that says, ‘I’ve heard you say that same thing so many times and I’ve seen you get annoyed like this so many times and, somehow, because it is you it makes me love you more.’ Peter Jones faked the smile so well that only an expert would have identified the deception, would have recognised the tension in his gut.

  ‘Why, for Christ’s sake, does a drop of water always create such a major fuck up!’ Nic’s irritation continued to build.

  It was, Peter knew, going to be brief, obvious and certain. He could no more change the course of the next few minutes of conversation than he could influence the weather. He knew better than to try.

  ‘It’s more than a drop and it isn’t major.’

  ‘I bet more people agree with me than you.’ Nic’s long, delicate fingers drummed against the steering wheel.

  ‘Possibly.’

  ‘Definitely. I’m telling you right now we are surrounded by a host of very angry people.’

  ‘You wouldn’t convince a jury of that.’ As he said it, Peter’s stomach tightened briefly. A short, sharp tug deep on his left side. Peter frowned despite himself.

  ‘I would if they’d been in this fucking queue. It feels like the start of a Romero movie called Drenched Zombie Dawn.’

  ‘Everything feels like part of a Romero movie right now.’

  ‘By lunchtime we’ll be fighting to survive against hordes of brain dead lunatics who are all soaked to the skin and desperate to get out of the rain.’

  ‘The thing you always seem to
forget is that we are part of the problem you are complaining about. We are helping to create the queue.’

  ‘No. No, no, no, no! They are the queue!’ A finger stabbed towards the car windscreen and the line of traffic ahead. ‘We are just the innocent victims of everyone else reacting inappropriately to a drop of water.’

  ‘It’s more than a drop.’

  Above them what looked like a thick, grey quilt of cloud covered the city. Peter glanced at his watch. They were running late. Everyone who was city-based was running late. That always happened when the weather took a turn for the worse. Ultimately gridlock was just a reminder of the way everyone and everything was connected. All just part of one big system. But is it a system that society depends upon or is the system actually society?

  To his left, on the pavement, a young white man no more than nineteen years old, walked past talking into his mobile phone. His younger looking mixed race girlfriend – at least Peter couldn’t see a wedding ring – was a pace behind, pushing a pram. The baby was out of sight. The phone conversation was demanding all of the young man’s attention. He seemed unaware of the rain or the traffic. Or his family. Peter couldn’t help but wonder how he made his money. And he couldn’t help but be angry with himself for the thought. Peter, of all people, knew better than to stereotype.

  It’s true, he mused, that every system is the result of a stream of constant patterns, but within these patterns are a range of subtle, significant and sometimes powerful differences. For the most part these differences flex within the confines of the system. Sometimes, though, they don’t. And when things happen to disrupt or damage the system, professionals have to identify the source of the problem and resolve it. He was one of those professionals. He was trained to identify the sequences of behaviour that challenge expectation and conformity; that dare you to make sense of something that’s different and bad; dare you to make sense of it and then do something about it. You can’t make sense of things accurately if you stereotype. Good and bad, he knew, comes in all shapes and sizes.