by John Nelson
51.
The next morning they removed my neural processor in a lengthy and delicate operation, that for some reason they wanted me to be awake and witness, if sedated. They had no plan to replace it with another one at this point, not that I would have wanted it, but it was clear that I had no say on the matter. I think they wanted to watch my reaction and gauge my state of mind, before and after the extraction, but I was perfectly fine both ways. I sensed that they had expected more of a reaction from me. I had to remind myself that this was the Mecca of neural processors, and that they had a lot at stake in convincing people they were absolutely necessary, while the bornies operated perfectly well without them, as did I apparently.
After my recovery a couple days later, they ran me through a round of tests. I assumed they didn’t believe the earlier results from Phoenix after my last NP extraction or thought the execution was flawed. I could tell from the look in the eyes of my testers that they were not pleased with the results. It must’ve run contrary to their whole intellectual framework, and I might add, belief system. Fortunately for me, and this was certainly ironic, they weren’t my keepers, Dr. Klaus was. The next day he came by to update me.
“Alan, you certainly were able to ‘affect’ this neural processor and create new neurological pathways, some of which we still can’t figure out.”
“Well that was the idea, wasn’t it? Push me to deal with the dichotomy of feeling and mental feedback and create a process of adaptation before the damn thing killed me?”
“It would’ve never done that, but it did have its own program that you were able to … alter. For us the next step will be to create a schematic and design an upgrade using your precursor cells, although the people here would call it just another model, insert it in some test subjects and see how they fare.”
“So, I’m done with this assignment and ready to get back to my old job,” I said facetiously, knowing no such thing was planned for me.
“Well, we would like to understand this process of yours and how it affected the X2, and seems it’d be best not to coerce it out of you but have you cooperate with us.” Klaus opened his valise and pulled out a document and passed it to me. “This is a release for Emma Knowles, along the lines you suggested. As you can see, she’s already signed it and it’s in effect.”
“When you give me a brand-new portable, and I call her out in the world to assure me that she’s been released, I’ll try to show your people what I’ve been doing.”
“Try?” he asked, knitting his brow.
“I can tell you and show you, but your mindset and theirs may not be able to appreciate how integrated functioning actually works. They’ve designed these processors from the beginning to accelerate mental activity while, if not denying, at least undervaluing the feeling function.”
“I see, and rather astute I might add,” Klaus said. “But, let’s get back to your conditions. Are you that mistrustful of us that you think we’d rig this whole release? I mean, as you can see it’s been countersigned by her lawyer.”
“Dr. Klaus, despite your pretense to the contrary, I’ve been consistently lied to and manipulated during this operation, and so yes, I believe I have a right and an obligation to be … mistrustful.”
“Okay. I’ll see what I can do about that call. In the meantime, the doctors here would like to conduct a neurological examination of your neocortex, since we can’t remove it, and see what changes have occurred there.”
I almost said—can’t remove it yet, but I restrained myself. “Can you tell me how long the beta testing of your next processor will take?”
“You mean the redesign, insertion, and assessment?”
I nodded my head.
“Maybe three months.”
I looked surprised.
“Quicker than you thought?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
“Well, there’s a need, if not yet a crisis, to upgrade and adjust our … their product line to make it more … compatible. Or how can I say … to help bridge this schism that you so like to point out to us.”
“I’m all for that.”
“Good. So we’re on the same page and your cooperation is assured, once you’re satisfied that Emma is free as a bird.”
I begrudgingly nodded my head. Dr. Klaus stood up, gave me a winning smile, took back Emma’s release document and left the room without another word. Now I had to determine just how much I could share with them, or if this would be counterproductive in any way.
The next day I went back into their lab, and the brain scientists ran a number of neurological exams on my neocortex, such as testing the neuron firing-rate, the speed at which it processed new material, etc. Again, from their reactions, I could see that while my neocortex was altered, on its own it could not account for the high test results. What they didn’t realize or couldn’t compute or understand is that these results weren’t strictly a result of a faster neocortex but of my expanded consciousness at this point. Sara Irving, whom I had first met on my trip here to interview Dr. Quirk and who had updated Ling on the new processor, was part of this group. While she maintained her distance, I could see that she was sensing the broader picture of my development, and at unguarded moments a quizzical facial expression seemed to confirm that.
It only took a few experimental sessions to gather up the needed raw data, but Klaus wanted to explore this process of mine and how it had affected their experimental neural processor. So he arranged for me to talk with Emma at her cabin in upper state New York. I examined the new portable and found that it hadn’t been tampered with—I would know since as an undercover agent I had rigged more than a few—and they left me alone in an interrogation room, although I figured the conversation was being monitored.
After she showed me shots of herself with the cabin and lake in the background, which I transferred to the wall screen, we had a brief conversation. “So, Mansfield is satisfied that legally you’re free and they can’t make a further claim on you?”
“Believe me when I say, Paula is even more paranoid than you.”
I nodded my head. “Okay, I just wanted to make sure you were all right.”
Emma glared at me. “Well, what about you? When are they going to let you go, or are they going to let you go?” she asked.
“I don’t see why not. I’ve cooperated with them, and they seem happy with the results of the mission, which as we guessed was always about the neural processors.” I waited for them to interrupt the transmission or garble my response, but they didn’t, which was actually hopeful.
“Well, my father was so thankful for your help with my case that he’s hired Paula to look into your situation.”
“Thank him, but I don’t think it’s really necessary.”
This stopped her, and she stared back at me for a long moment and seemed to get what I was really saying; legal recourse would be a dead end.
“Okay, I’ll tell him as much, but he’s a pretty feisty old guy, and I can’t tell how he’ll respond.”
Klaus stepped into the room and used a hand gesture to tell me the conversation needed to end. I said my goodbyes, and my hopes that she could get back to the Southwest at some point, since she loved the desert so much. This last statement seemed to annoy Klaus, as if it was some hidden message, and he terminated the connection.
“We’ve told Knowles that the Southwest was off-limits to her.”
I nodded my head. It seemed like they wanted to isolate Maria and her group, or didn’t want what was happening in my development to get replicated with Emma, who was already halfway there. This suggested, which alarmed me, that Maria and her healers were still targets.
“So, if you’re satisfied, I’ve set up an open forum with their neural scientists this afternoon, to explore this ‘process’ of yours.”
I stared at him for a long moment. “You’ve upheld your end of the bargain and I’ll uphold mine, but I’m telling you these rationalists just won’t get it.”
“Well, I un
derstand, but given the framework, we can have you explain it later to others who are … more attuned to such development.”
52.
The session was set up in their mini-amphitheater, that they no doubt used for educational purposes. I sat at a table on the stage, with Dr. Klaus beside me as the monitor. There were also vid screens at the back and on both sides, to enlarge video material sent to their portables. As I sat down and scanned the gathering of about two dozen white-coated doctors and researchers, I spotted Dr. Irving in the back row. I was concerned that she may have a better handle on this process and what was happening to me, and I hoped she wouldn’t challenge some of my less-than-forthright answers.
Dr. Klaus started off the session. “We’ve had a chance now to test the experimental X2 processor that Alan was … kind enough to alpha test for us in the field. We’ve determined that he was able to ‘effect’ changes in its processing by integrating feelings that this … body-mind schism seems to create.” There was some grumbling from the audience, but Klaus ignored it. “While we’ve yet to test this theory on other subjects but will be able to shortly with the next model, I thought it would be productive to hear how Alan does this process of his.” Klaus paused for a moment and surveyed his audience with a lock-eyed stare to preclude any “bad behavior” on their part. I had to remind myself that what I was doing and suggesting was contrary to their whole mindset and was thus threatening on a lot of levels. He turned to me. “Can you give us a brief summation, Alan?”
“Well, if I’m not mistaken, the neural processors accelerate the synapse firing of the neocortex, so what I’m actually doing is working with how the neocortex suppresses feelings at accelerated levels.” I figured the best way to deflect blame or criticism away from their precious little NPs was to shift the focus. This drew a few nods from the more accommodating scientists in the audience. I caught Dr. Irving’s cryptic smile in the top row.
“It’s fairly simple in theory if a little more difficult in application. When a negative feeling arises, with its own angry voice of recrimination or blame, I just focus on the feeling sensation, don’t try to figure it out or go mental, and after a while—at first a minute or two and now almost instantaneously—the energy of the angry feeling seems to get integrated and my body experiences a kind of body shift. I’ve been hooked up to monitoring devices when this happens, and I’ve been told that you can see the phase shift in the brainwave rhythms.”
A hand went up in the audience. I turned to Dr. Klaus, who asked me, “Are you ready to take questions?”
“Yeah, that’s basically the process—let’s let them fire away.” I turned to the scientist in the first row. “You have a question.”
“I do indeed.” He paused. “Afterward, do you feel euphoric?”
“No, not in a sense of being … high or wired, just calmer and more settled into my body.”
The man frowned. “Do these particular angry thoughts ever return, or their subject?”
I had to think over this for a moment. “Yes, in another context like, ‘she doesn’t love me’ to ‘she doesn’t respect me,’ but eventually this whole focus dissipates after repeated integrations.”
The scientist nodded his head, still a little uncertain. Someone else, an older woman in the second row, said, “It’s hard to believe that this process alone is causing the neurological changes we’re seeing in the X2.”
This drew a round of nods from the others. Sara Irving raised her hand. “Mr. Reynard, at first, when you discovered this … technique, how many times a day would you do it?”
“Well, I discovered this process back in college. But when I started working in law enforcement and was sent on assignments to borny villages, where erratic feelings run quite high, I’d say twenty or thirty times a day.” This drew a few incredulous huffs from the audience.
Klaus wasn’t happy with this contrary response and stared down these groups of doctors. Another white-coated scientist from the third row asked, “This was with your old …” She looked down at her screen, “ … R11 model?”
“I’m not sure what the number was, but yes, what I was first fitted with as a teenager and had upgraded later.”
“Did you detect any differences with the X2 model that was later implanted?” she asked.
Dr. Klaus turned to me and gave me another one of his cautionary looks.
“Yes, the parameters were … different, if that’s the right word, or at first. It did allow the processing of more feelings but … had a feedback loop, a mental component.”
There were nods of recognition from the audience. “And how did you deal with that?” she asked, as everybody leaned forward.
“I modified my process which seemed to modify the feedback loop, until it came to some kind of balance.” Since this was exactly what they wanted—having me adjust it to a higher if not an ultimate level—they all seemed fairly pleased with this “accommodation.”
The woman now looked at her screen and called up something. “And when this healer applied her energy …”
Dr. Klaus raised his hand. “That’s classified … for now. Please keep your questions … general.”
There was an undercurrent of resentment that passed through the audience; they were all going to need some processing later. After that, I could see that the Institute and the government had its own little schism, and I wondered how they expected to roll out a more adaptable neural processor, if the hands didn’t know what the mind was thinking. The questions after this “intervention” were along more pedestrian paths, but they seemed to understand how my process could and did adapt the processor, along the lines they were seeing. I was somewhat relieved that nobody picked up on or asked questions about an alternate approach to affecting the processors. As everybody got up to leave, I had brief eye contact with Sara Irving, who just nodded her head. This went well for our team, if she was actually working with us.
I was informed by Klaus that my services would still be needed, while they ran the beta test on the new X5 processor. I told him that they needed to release me or let Paula Mansfield resolve my hostage situation with the government. I was told that I was still employed by K Industries, that my paycheck was being deposited to my account as always, and that my contract with them allowed them to lend me out to the FBI on assignments. This was part of my assignment, but that they were allotting me an apartment at the Institute. I was to remain on campus and available for further testing of my “development” and the effects on me of living without a neural processor until the next stage of their X5 rollout.
“In other words, I’m your guinea pig for as long as you so desire,” I told him at my preliminary wrap-up for this stage of my deployment.
“Alan, as you’ve said, you work in law enforcement, and while this isn’t the type of hands-on, deep-cover assignments you’re used to, it is crucial to us maintaining law and order within our society.”
I was tempted to dispute the real nature of this operation and its bid for continued government control over their half-asleep flock, but I figured it wouldn’t change him or his superiors and would only dig a deeper hole for me.
Chapter Eighteen
53.
I was sure that my little apartment was wired for sound and video, and that they were keeping a close watch on me. Thus, it was important that I didn’t have any further Kundalini awakening experiences, or anything remotely transcendent, that might clue them into this alternate process that we had initiated. I suspected that, since they couldn’t attribute my higher test scores to changes in my neocortex, while devaluing my own integration process, they were suspicious or maybe even intuited—I mean this faculty was completely atrophied in them—that there was something else happening with me. So I read a lot, took long walks on their campus—I had a subdural tracking device—and used my time out in nature as my meditation and alignment process. I was told that Paula Mansfield had filed a petition with the courts, claiming that I was being forcibly detained by the FBI, and deman
ded an interview with me. They were forced to comply, but Dr. Klaus warned me in a video feed from his New York offices, that if I wanted to maintain the current “status quo” of my position, I would back her off.
She was escorted to my apartment; I assumed that an interview in one of the Institute’s interrogation rooms would only support her contention. I poured us some Chinese green tea and we sat out on the patio of my third-storey place.
“I assume your apartment and even this patio are bugged?” Paula asked.
I smiled. “We do live in a surveillance society.”
“Well, I’ve been briefed about your situation and your voluntary compliance, and I just needed to check that out on my own.” I nodded my head. “I’ve also been told that this ‘project’ is top secret and that you can’t divulge any information about it.”
“Yes, and I won’t compromise you by violating that agreement.”
“What I can’t understand is why they have you sequestered out here, and why you can’t resume your work at K Industries? I’ve been assured by your boss, Gene Upshaw, that you still work for them and are on loan to the FBI.”
“Yes, it a fairly long debriefing.”
Paula stared at me. “Well, according to Emma, it’s been more than three months since you’ve returned from the Southwest.”
I let this statement settle for a moment. I could just imagine my handlers listening attentively. “Again, it’s all very complicated and involves more than just writing reports or getting interrogated about my last mission.”
“Interrogated? Doesn’t sound very voluntary to me,” she said.
“Well, just a convenient term. I do work in intelligence. But, you and Emma need to know that it is indeed voluntary, and that at some point I will be returned to my regular job at K Industries.”