Gene wouldn't waste a moment. On the morning following the merger, he was ready to move his latest tool of control onto the public's most desired list. Michael's show was doing a fine job laying the groundwork. A few good and bad examples, and the masses would come pay the Apophis Corporation to control another part of their lives. With the touch of a digital pad in his desktop, one of Gene's office windows turned into a television screen. Pin the Ponytail filled the view. Betty's son Max was done with his scan and the giant chicken was applying a yellow stick-on bandage to the site of the blood extraction.
When science developed treatments for the symptoms of obesity and its unwelcome cousins diabetes and heart disease, Gene had expected a different response. Most of his customers flocked towards self- destructive lifestyles in a way humanity had never experienced. The premise of a healthy mind in an equally healthy body had been updated. Instead, a mind that retrieved information from the palm of its hand in a body shaped by liposuction and the contours of an easy-chair had become a life-aspiration.
Gene had lost all respect for a group of people who had such low opinions of themselves that they would create a lesser environment for their peers just so their dim light would still outshine one’s acquaintances. “If life was permitted to progress in the same manner, humanity would surely regress to a society that has lost its spirit and looks outside their neglected selves for happiness,” he thought to himself, full of woe.
Gene wasn't going to sit through one of Michael's shows. He quickly muted the sound. A few strikes of the virtual keyboard and an adjacent window displayed the face of computer genius Ryan Kensington. Ryan was excited to answer this call. He had a lot of good news to share with Gene. Ryan's clean-shaven skin showed the effects of his recent journey to the tropics. Ryan glowed with his first tan since he finished school. He generally lived his life indoors with computers. He was Isabelle's age and, despite his lack of social life, extremely fit. Ryan's nerdy attire and glasses disguised his natural handsomeness.
While many at Apophis had spent the night celebrating, Ryan had stayed late at work and came in early to supervise the integration of Tefis' communication and information systems. The merger of the two companies had presented Ryan with a very unique opportunity. As head of the firm's I.T. system, he found a computer network at his fingertips more powerful than any spy organization or government's supercomputer. In Ryan's mind, the combination of computing power and large amount of personal information within the system presented an amazing potential to improve the lives of the world population. He envisioned a future in which everyone's life-condition would be elevated to their highest potential. This morning was going to bring first proof of his new tool's effectiveness. Ryan eagerly awaited the results of the first DNA scans from Michael's show. Gene's call came at the perfect moment, Ryan thought, as he addressed his all-powerful employer, wasting no time on unnecessary hellos.
"The two systems have integrated even better than expected."
Ryan manipulated the interactive screen with his hand, sending the results of Max's DNA analysis to Gene. The computer display appeared on another window in the industrialist's office. Gene looked at the results with great interest. Just like Ryan, he had great expectations for what laid ahead. Both men were eagerly watching a double-helix assemble as the individual genes in Max's DNA were decoded and recognized. Alongside the growing, colorful spiral, a list assembled with Max's biological potential for health, or better - lack thereof. The family's grocery-club card revealed the Caissons as heavy consumers of chocolate, preservative-ridden food, and a plethora of stomach remedies and over-the-counter drugs.
From knowledge of the ancient cultures, Gene knew that when people neglect their bodies, they create a world of misery around them through the power of the human mind. Their spirit would attempt to feel better by comparison and create a world of lesser quality than its cheese-fed body. It was a slander against life and the cosmos for Gene. The knowledge of this principle was in libraries and museums, but the preferred source of information was Michael’s show. A brain devoid of long-term knowledge would soon become a ghost town that had given way to the smart phone. It made little sense to deliver knowledge of a better life to a town with no occupants.
Ryan was very excited about what he saw. He boasted, "with the proprietary software I developed, we're able to decode someone's DNA in virtual real-time."
Gene's demeanor was much calmer, his jubilation was subtle and internalized. Max's computer profile revealed most of his grades at or near failing, the family's income just barely above poverty. The boy's DNA makeup combined with his heavy consumption of sugar and fat-laden snacks, along with a body that lacked any evidence of exercise had projected his future as rather glum. Max was shown at high risk for diabetes and early adult onset of heart disease. Ryan saw a great opportunity to prevent future calamities in the kid's health.
"A few changes to this child's eating habits and with some exercise he'll live a long and healthy life."
Gene brushed over the disconnect button with his hand as if to shoo away a buzzing fly. A few commands on the industrialist’s virtual keyboard and the Caisson family's e-mails were inundated with a barrage of coupons for discounted candy and junk food. A few more commands and an invitation to a free childhood-diabetes screening was on its way to Betty's mailbox.
Gene proclaimed with a triumphant smile, "We'll nudge the little piglet right into the sausage factory."
5 NEW TRUTH
By this time, Isabelle had finished breakfast and showered. She was dressed for the day and the time had come to go to the media center to continue work on her report. She felt like she stood before a breakthrough. Isabelle had looked into numerous claims of individuals stating to have found previously unknown sources of energy. Some were too outrageous to believe, others seemed reasonable. In the end, almost every theory either glanced over or covered up some fundamental flaw - almost. There was one concept that had kept Isabelle's interest. It seemed to violate several of the known laws of physics, first and foremost Newton's law of energy conservation. This was the law which stated energy could neither be created nor be destroyed. Most theories and ploys Isabelle had come across in her research possessed a fundamental flaw. Something, however, about this particular idea felt different to her. Isabelle couldn't put her finger on the reason she believed in this particular concept, but deep inside, her instinct told her to pursue it further. It was an ancient concept, oddly enough. The young investigative journalist had found several documents in her search that dealt with the atmospheric phenomenon commonly known as Ball Lightning. Apparently it wasn't lightning at all.
Isabelle was hoping the new computer network would help her find the information that could explain the mystery of the luminous orb. She had looked outside conventional scientific papers and studied a number of ancient texts and folklores of people long gone and forgotten. The young journalist had gathered her things for work, the most important of which were her folder with the energy research and a thumb-drive that contained more literature on the subject. Tonati entered through the open kitchen to meet Isabelle. She gave the puma a kiss on his large nose.
"I'll be back when it's dark. Keep the house safe while I'm gone. I love you, Tonati."
The cat made a sound of approval then headed out into the garden. As Isabelle stepped into the garage, she pushed a button that raised the door. The rays of the morning sun bathed the area in golden light and reflected off a late-model Bug and an Enduro-motorcycle. For a moment, Isabelle shifted her attention towards the bike. With a sigh, she looked at the folder in her hand and turned towards her car. She opened the door and tossed her bag and the folder on the passenger seat as she was getting in. Isabelle started the system of her hybrid car.
"Display least congested route to work."
A projection of a map of Los Angeles and her plotted course across town appeared on the windshield. The proposed trip detoured several accidents and construction zones. The car pulled out
of the garage and Isabelle began her journey to the Apophis media center. Her drive was taking her through the town’s many residential areas. She mostly stayed off the busy main roads and freeways. This saved Isabelle a lot of time in travel and she enjoyed seeing the beauty the city had to offer. Palm trees lined many of the roads she took, but today there was very little time to take in the view. Instead, Isabelle's focus was on uncovering the mystery of ball lightning.
She plugged the thumb-drive into a spot in the car's console. A list of documents ranging from folklore to energy research appeared on her windshield while the map moved off into a corner. Isabelle utilized the car's voice interface.
"Display document Luminous Baskets."
A report appeared. The first paragraph read:
The native American tail of luminous baskets in the sky may hold the key to an alternate universe. This ancient folklore referred to an atmospheric phenomenon known in the western world as ball lightning.
Before Isabelle could read any more, the document disappeared from her screen and an error message flashed in its place.
File Does Not Exist
Isabelle's attention was drawn in by traffic. She brought her car to a sudden stop. An obese woman was cutting across the street on an electric mobility device to catch a waiting bus. Isabelle had little choice but to wait as the electric scooter strained under the weight. The bus extended its ramp and dipped notably as its heavy cargo rolled onboard.
Isabelle was nearing the Apophis Media Center where her office was located. The megalithic complex built in several annulated rings housed offices and studios. The center was occupied by a huge, circular soundstage. Several smaller yet still sizable stages were nestled around its perimeter along office towers and equipment storage. The buildings were all different shades of yellow and orange. The complex presented quite an impressive sight from the air, resembling the stylized shape of a sunflower. Up-close its sheer enormity was overwhelming. Apophis had consolidated all forms of media into one central location. The nation's media producers had been taken over by Gene's firm. Many were shut down and the surviving ones were now running under Apophis rule. All television, radio, Internet, wireless, and billboards received their content from this complex. The population had praised Gene for making the media more efficient. Many believed a centralized source of information, entertainment and advertising would prevent the dissemination of false information. In their fear of the unseen, the people had forgotten how life was just decades ago. Freedom of the press was what helped keep rogue elements of government and industry in check by uncovering true scandals and reporting the truth. They had forgotten because of Gene's campaign, Dishonest Small Town Media, made them think otherwise. A few years earlier, Gene had created a media scandal that made the public mistrust independent journalists. With Michael's help, he had convinced most that news from his company was more trustworthy than others. The result was the demise of a truly free press.
Apophis steered away from proper newscasts and newspapers. Instead, fluffy and colorful shows would provide entertainment while cleverly presenting information in palatable portions. Gene could give facts a different spin. News were always followed by interpretations of what may have happened, rather than sticking to facts to reinforce the corporate agenda. News reports and video feeds from all over the world came into the center where various media outlets would incorporate them into their programming. What most in the media center didn't know, was that news feeds were intercepted by Gene’s new-truth facility before they reached their destination. A vast network of hallways and elevators connected soundstages, offices and studios in the multilevel sub-basement. There, the world's news were altered and distributed to the folks upstairs. This way, Gene was able to maintain the illusion of a free press even among anchors and reporters who addressed the public in their programs.
Gene felt it necessary to maintain a layer of secrecy so none of his on-air personnel could slip up or turn on him. Michael Leese was the exception to this rule. Gene knew Michael's affinity for fame was much stronger than any sense of morality he might possess. This was going to be the busiest day yet for the new-truth facility. After all, it was the first day of Apophis' absolute power and maintaining that took a heavy propaganda machine. Isabelle's document about the luminous round-baskets in the sky had been deleted by this facility's automated search.
In one of the recording studios an engineer and a voice-over actor were busy changing the content of a report from a war-torn Middle Eastern country. The engineer had cued the news package to its beginning. He played it back so they could both review its contents.
There was destruction everywhere. A school had been torn apart by a bomb. A smoldering ambulance laid on its side. Most of the school building had been reduced to rubble. Schoolbooks and toys were strewn about and what wasn't burning was soaked in blood.
A very upset father described what had transpired. The man was beside himself. He pointed to the sky as he explained to a reporter that a squadron of war planes had flown overhead and dropped a mass of bombs on the area while school was in session. His little boy had been in class at the time.
The father's voice broke up as he labored on. Tears welled up in his eyes as he described how his wife and daughter had rushed to the school to find their son. He said rescue workers just arrived when the bombers returned for another attack, killing the rest of his family and all the emergency personnel.
The engineer stopped playback and re-cued the package to the beginning. A nod from the voice-over actor signaled him that talent was ready. The technician pushed a few buttons and three beeps indicated the beginning of the recording. The video played on his monitor and in the sound-booth. The actor behind the pane of glass read from his copy, drowning out the original sound on the video.
"A suicide bomber attacked this school today, killing at least 100 children and 30 women. The bomber drove up to the school in an ambulance to avoid being stopped by security forces. This man says he believes they are being punished by Allah and is begging for help from the West."
"Cut and print!" proclaimed the recording engineer.
Happy with the report's new soundtrack, he finalized the file and sent it along to the media center above. There, it would become part of the day's newscasts.
On the ground above all this deception, Isabelle was arriving at the entrance to the media center's parking garage. A gate separated her from the interior. To gain entrance, she rolled down her window and turned to face a retina scanner just outside the driver's door. The device looked a little bit like something one might find at an optometrist's office and bore the Apophis sun-logo, like so many things. A bright light repeatedly flashed into Isabelle's left eye while the scanner read and analyzed the patterns of blood vessels of her retina. She turned her head back in the direction of travel. Isabelle had gotten used to the gate opening right away and her foot moved over the accelerator - but the gate stayed down. Instead, a message flashed across the device's little screen while a buzzer made sure it drew in the driver's attention.
Scan Inconclusive
Isabelle faced the scanner to endure another round of the pulsing light. This time, the gate opened. Somewhat blinded, Isabelle pulled forward into the garage. She had to squint and mostly rely on her other eye to find her way down to her parking spot.
Soon, Isabelle had descended the many parking decks and arrived at her spot on the bottom level. She pulled her thumb-drive out of the dash and with the folder of research materials in hand, she headed to the elevator lobby. Her office was on the top floor, but there was no time that morning to climb the stairs all the way from the basement level. The elevator's two metal doors slid open. Isabelle was engrossed in the ball-lightning paper and waited for the only passenger to exit. His voice emanated from inside.
"I'm going up."
Isabelle stepped into the elevator and pushed the button for her floor. Her eyes glanced at the man on the other side of the car. Standing in the elevator was Michael Lee
se, wishing her a good morning. Isabelle distractedly returned her colleague's greeting and continued to read.
A few moments later, Isabelle entered her office. It was a very unique place. Next to a large desk was a totem pole that depicted a young woman and a wildcat. A bookshelf displayed several journalism awards, many from Alaska, and pictures of her as a child in the jungle. One picture stood out for its hand-carved wooden frame. It held a photo of a younger Isabelle and her parents. Gemma and Lionel’s daughter looked like she was the happiest kid in the world. In her arms was the tiny puma-cub Tonati, his tongue lapping across her chin.
Two of her office walls were completely interactive. Each displayed numerous news reports as they came in from all over the world. Despite the global variety of feeds, each story would pass through the new-truth facility first. There, it was edited by computers and personnel in any language delivered. The lower third of each screen was occupied with closed-captioning in the story's native text. Isabelle spoke many languages. Her childhood afforded her this skill and she was able to read along on many foreign feeds.
With These Eyes Page 3