To drum up support for his company, Gene made good use of his media outlets. Among his most powerful weapons of mass deception was an empire of television shows hosted by the charismatic Michael Leese. Michael lived at the pulse of the public and wore his brown hair in the trademark ponytail, like the rebel he sought to portray. Michael's strength was tapping into the public's sentiment and selling them what they believed would fill the voids he helped create. This day was going to be the launch of Gene's latest tool of control - retina and DNA scans. This new technology would reveal each person's biological potential and tie it irrefutably to their identity.
The curb outside the Chicken Palace was lined with television production trucks. It looked like a major sporting event was taking place. The entire restaurant had been turned into the set of Michael's flagship show Pin the Ponytail. The futile events on Michael's show often provided the news with their lead story. This enabled Gene to bury major political events deep inside his many newspapers. This day, all the screens and papers where filled with news and headlines about how magnificently the merger between the two companies had been received by the world - despite great opposition by many. The nation's most influential trendsetter, Michael, was going to be a big help to Gene in convincing the masses to embrace a monopoly over a free-market society.
The restaurant's dining area had been cleared of its tables and chairs. Television cameras and lights provided a whole different kind of decor. In place of the cash registers, a DNA and retina scan machine was towering prominently on the counter. Audience bleachers were set up on the other side of the rather large dining area. A mix of house-wives and -husbands filled every available seat. Several families were standing in a long line that lead to the retina scan. A man dressed in a chicken suit was attending the device as parents brought him their offspring to be scanned.
Michael Leese looked sharp in his hand-tailored suit, very much like a business man - his ponytail said otherwise. It was just what he needed for the look of someone who's a rebel, a person who sided against the establishment. After all, Michael's shows were full of blame for the government's inability to cope with the problems that were plaguing society. The people wanted to hear that they were living their lives the best they could, not be criticized. It was easy for the man with the ponytail to shift the blame on a government that truly had its share of issues. This day’s episode was going to be no exception. Michael was standing off-stage, talking on a video phone. Inside the control room onboard one of the production trucks, the show's director David Critchett was anxiously looking at his stopwatch.
"Thirty seconds to air!" David proclaimed over the headset.
He took his finger off the all button on the panel for the Interruptible Feedback, which transmitted his voice directly into Michael's earwig. Michael continued his video conference as if he hadn't heard the director's announcement. Soon the show's opening graphic began to play on the studio monitors.
"Ten Seconds!"
It was the voice of John, the floor manager who was hastily approaching Michael. The television host casually ended his call and took his mark.
Inside the production truck, Michael's image appeared on several monitors as the camera operators were framing him up. On the program monitor, the show's opening featured Michael uncovering scandals and carrying a child from a burning building. David's index finger depressed the host button on the I.F.B.
"Five, four, three..."
David's voice came in clear over the earwig. Michael was in his element. The camera's red tally-light illuminated and Michael addressed the lens.
"Good morning Ladies and Gentlemen and welcome to a very special edition of our show. We're coming to you today from the grand opening of L.A's most technologically-advanced chicken restaurant. But we're celebrating more than the opening of an all-genetically fortified nutrition center. Everywhere you go today, people are talking about the historic event. Never before in the history of modern man has there been a single entity that provided all the world's goods and services. The benefits for us all are staggering."
Michael left his mark and approached a woman, Betty Caisson, a middle-aged homemaker and her overweight son, Max, who were standing in line for the retina scanner.
"Ma'am?" Michael asked.
The woman was as excited as a Beatles fan talking to Ringo. "Yes?" Betty responded as blood rushed to her face.
Even Betty's son was visibly excited and sweating profusely. His ball-cap sported the show’s logo in which Michael’s long haired silhouette of a their “rebel-leader” prominently hovered over his cheering fans. A ponytail stretched from the hat to Max’s shoulders.
Michael motioned towards the kid's hat. "I see everyone in the family is a fan of the show. How do you feel about the unexpected deal between Apophis and the Tefis corporation?"
Betty responded: "Well, I think it's just great. My family and I really love it. Don't we, Max?"
Max took off his ball-cap and its attached ponytail, revealing a head of short hair as his mother rambled on.
"We save so much time not having to comparison shop any more, and no more arguing about what store to go to. You know, we just shop on-line. That leaves more time for work. The best part is I don't have to balance my checkbook any more. Since Apophis owns the bank, too, they do it all for us. It's nice to be able to let someone else do the thinking."
Michael seemed pleased with his interviewee's response. "There you have it, ladies and gentlemen. Your convenience and comfort have reached a new high, thanks to the tireless efforts of the Apophis Corporation." Michael turned back from the camera towards Betty and asked, "But there is another reason why you are here today, isn't there?"
"Oh, you better believe it," Betty answered. "I'm getting my son’s retina scanned so all his records can be in safekeeping with Apophis."
Michael probed. "And what prompted you to do that?"
Betty replied angrily, "My husband did when he burned down our house and all our papers went up in flames."
Inside the control room, David had a video cued up on the preview monitor. His command rang out over the headset. "Ready A, roll and take A."
The video jumped to the program monitor. It featured a shot of the rural Caisson residence during a lightning storm. Inside the chicken restaurant, everyone's eyes were on the monitors.
Michael commented, "And we're lucky enough you videotaped the whole thing."
Betty replied, "That's because my husband had this idea where he thought he could save some money. You know how energy has gotten so expensive? Well, my husband thought he would outsmart the power company and save the electricity from lightning in this enormous battery he had built in our basement. He worked in the mine all his life and he'd bring home graphite dust in the back of his truck."
Michael: "Graphite? Isn't that flammable?"
Betty replied while nodding. "If that isn't the understatement of the century! Of course, my husband said nothing about that when he turned our entire storm cellar into this thing he called a capacitor."
Michael grimaced and interjected. "Sounds very technical. I doubt most our viewers know about this sort of thing. Maybe I should explain a little: A capacitor is a lot like a battery, except it is able to fully charge or discharge all the energy it stores in just the fraction of a second."
Betty continued: "Yes, and my husband built one of these things by layering the graphite dust he had brought home over the years between a ton of plastic sheets. He was convinced he could store electricity in it that would power our house the rest of the year."
Michael took Max's hat and placed it back on the kid's head while commenting. "Sounds like a good concept in theory but did your husband really think he had the expertise for something like that? It seems if this were really possible, everyone would be saving lightning in a bottle."
The audience broke into laughter. Embarrassed, Betty inched closer towards her television idol. "Well, Michael, you are a lot smarter than my husband."
On the studio monitors, a sharpened flagpole could be seen protruding from the roof of the two-story house. With a loud crash, the Caisson family-home was struck by an enormous flash of lightning. Both floors of the house instantly filled with thick smoke.
Betty's voice continued over the image. "I warned him, but he thought he knew everything there is to know about fire and electricity. All our documents and passports went up in flames, along with the house. Now we live with his parents."
On the monitors, a blinding flash from the basement shot through the house. In the blink of an eye, the entire dwelling had turned into a blazing inferno. Instead of charging the layers of graphite powder with electricity, the lightning strike had ignited a fearsome fire storm. The expanding gases from the fire had pushed the burning carbon powder through every nook and cranny of the house. Betty continued: "Of course, he had to do it right before Ponytail was going to be on. Good thing I was out buying candy with Max. We just love to munch on things when we watch your show."
Michael: "Good thing. So did your husband learn anything from this?"
Betty: "Oh he did. He's leaving the energy business to the big guys. I am having all our personal information stored by Apophis, where it's safe from my husband's meddling."
Michael picked up the conversation from there. "Allow me to explain in detail: In an unprecedented effort, the friendly folks of Apophis have made it simple for all of us to have access to his or her birth certificate, driver's license and even immunization records. The firm's global network of hospitals, schools and service providers will all be easily available. Access to the data will be linked to the unique pattern of blood vessels on the back of a person's eye."
Betty's excitement wouldn't stop. "Amazing, the things they can do today."
It had become Max's turn at the scanner. The kid before him stepped away and the man in the yellow chicken-suit turned towards Betty's corpulent offspring with his wings spread in an inviting pose. A booming voice emanated from inside the chicken's hollow head.
"C'mon son, it'll barely hurt."
The chicken's large wing wrapped around the boy's back and pushed him towards the machine with gentle pressure. He guided Max's head to the front of the scan lamp. Next, he placed the kid's index finger in the machine. Max winced a bit as the machine pricked his finger and extracted a few drops of his blood.
4 DARK GENE
While the chicken was drawing blood from the boy, the head of the Apophis Corporation, Gene Soskyh, was arriving at his downtown office. Gene's enormous twin-rotor helicopter carried him high above the streets of Los Angeles to the top of the city's tallest building. Gene was in his late 50s. A lifetime of stress had worn on his face, but daily rituals of skin conditioning left this obvious only to a close observer. His hair had turned grey and was receding. He wore a suit that cost more than most people's cars. The way Gene traveled, assured he would arrive by the most expedient means and maintain distance from his many foes.
A snow-white turtle dove had found its way to the top of Gene's office tower. The bird had taken the previous day to climb that high, resting on smaller buildings in the interim. The dove was enjoying the magnificent view of the greater Los Angeles basin with the rays of the morning sun warming its feather-coat. The helipad was shaped like the world famous Apophis sun-logo. Some form of this logo was featured prominently on virtually every consumer product, much like on the retina scanner currently retaining the head of young Max.
Like an iron bird of prey, Gene's helicopter descended on the building. The strong rotor-wash from Gene's helicopter caught the unsuspecting bird off-guard. In a storm of feathers, it violently threw the animal off the landing pad and slamming into one of the glass walls that enclosed the rooftop. It was at this moment that the large craft came about to bring the exit to the near side of Gene's elevator. This caused the dove to bounce off the enclosure and get impaled on one of the spikes of the sun logo. The once lively snow-white symbol of peace now hung dead, soaked in dark-red blood by the side of the platform.
Gene's helicopter touched down. With the heavy rotors still spinning, its door opened and a set of stairs extended to the ground. Several men in suits rushed in and flanked the stairs. Shortly thereafter, the only passenger, Gene, emerged from the door. Like the giant-king Gargantua, Gene looked down upon his creation. Towers of steel and mirrors rose from the bustling streets to the glorious sky. None reached as high as the tower of the Apophis Corporation. The slanted mirrors that surrounded the circular penthouse below reflected the sun’s rays back into the heavens in a brilliant crest of light.
A metropolis of unmatched proportions, Los Angeles was to Gene a true representation of how progress could have improved life for all people. The men and women beneath his feet failed to show the slightest bit of appreciation for his work. Gene had suffered great hardships in his effort to motivate the people of this world to build a better future through the proliferation of technology and advanced medicine. The majority of the populous chose to use their tools to become stagnant and live sedentary lives, rather than better themselves and seek enlightenment.
His eyes caught the gory mess that was the mangled body of the turtle dove. Gene was disgusted, his sanctuary had been invaded. With the confidence of a self-made world leader, Gene descended the stairs towards the men in suits. In silence, Troopers surrounded Gene like a cocoon on his short walk to the waiting elevator. The tungsten doors slid open as he approached, revealing an interior with walls of gold, encrusted in rare gems. As Gene stepped in, the suited men took posts at the closing doors and strategic places around the roof, keeping a constant scan of the sky and other buildings below.
Gene was in the best mood of his life. With the stroke of a pen, he had gained control over all the world's production resources. Anyone who spoke on the phone, sent a letter or electronic message would do so on his infrastructure. To most leaders, that would have brought a tremendous amount of responsibility to assure a proper flow of confidential information. To Gene, however, this represented another unique opportunity. Through the use of digital postage and credit card purchases, he was able to develop profiles about people's mailing habits. Anyone who was on his Threat List and exchanged packages or letters with each other, would be elevated to a higher threat level.
Gene's Threat List was generated by his automated system. The acquisition of Tefis' computer network gave him a global web of super-computers. Gene had gained the ability to monitor all the world's phone calls, faxes and e-mails for anything he wanted to keep out of the public's pool of knowledge. The system came online the day before and his systems administrator, Ryan Kensington, had been compiling the first results. What Gene didn't want him to know was how the disallowed keywords could lead to greater knowledge, nor what would happen to those who had made it onto his list. Gene wasn't concerned. Ryan was busy crunching code and trying to think like a giant computer.
No private entity ever before had the ability to know what every person in the developed world was saying. For a mind like Gene's, there was little limitation on how far he would follow his darkness.
When the world was full of art, humanity advanced. When fear dimmed the divine light, things of less than beauty became abundant. The further the world was sinking into fear and darkness, the more it was destroying itself. Darkness had become so prevalent that it caused the protective forces to suffer and retreat. Without the protection of higher consciousness, the world’s downward spiral had become a free-fall into darkness.
Gene decided to leave the entire ball-lightning phenomena to the U.F.O. hunters who had a natural talent of giving even the credible no believability whatsoever. With Ryan’s global search spider on-line, it would take little time to remove all information on the phenomenon from the world stage. Only a handful of books were ever written and the last library in Los Angeles had just been replaced with a download kiosk. Gene had discovered the powerful symbolism and life-giving energy of the sun used by ancient civilizations. Gene thought it wise t
o appropriate this symbol of power for his own needs. He understood the ways of the civilizations that built this world.
The elevator doors opened and Gene stepped into his majestic office that overlooked Los Angeles in every direction. Aside from the helicopter, his desk was the highest spot in the city. Like an eagle, he overlooked the world below him. The slanted windows formed a circle around his palace of mirrors. Nested above, his twin-rotor helicopter remained on the ready to send Gene swooping at a moment's notice. The circular elevator shaft was encased in tungsten and made up one of the seven pillars that supported roof and helipad. Gene's desk seated him at the center of the room, able to see the entire city from his vantage point. At least here, Gene was safe from those with a lesser knowledge who were accusing him of engineering their demise. It occurred to Gene that these were the very individuals who used progress as a crutch to hobble along listlessly instead of propelling themselves into evolution. Gene had offered humanity the opportunity to live by compassion and the principle that the cosmos resides within every human being. Instead, 90% of all people chose to dip their food in liquid cheese and let the television set be their window to a perversion of the world.
With These Eyes Page 2