The Boy Who Would Rule the World

by Brian Toal

"Is there a problem here, Mrs. Hepburn?" The security guard asked, his voice heavy and menacing, his belt sagging outwards from his hips as he pulled his stomach in and inflated his chest.

  "Yes. This young boy has been riffling through these texts all morning, looking for medical pictures of nude people." Her eyes flashing in righteous indignation. "I think he should be searched for any pages he may have ripped out."

  "But I wasn't." The boy looked up at the security guard, his eyes pleading. "I was reading them, trying to figure out how the brain controls the body. And I was going to get astronomy books later on and books on history and all kinds of things. I need to learn things!" His voice rose much beyond the acceptable library level as he finished.

  "Quiet down!" She whispered, reaching out to push him back into his seat. "You were not reading, you were riffling through the pages."

  "I was not, I was reading them!" He said defiantly. She could feel him trying to wiggle out from under her grasp, pushing the chair away with his legs. "Then you come in and yank them all away from me!"

  "That's enough!" The security guard spoke, stepping around Muriel and grasping the boy's shoulder.

  Muriel felt her own face flush under the continued stare of the other library patrons. Two of them gawked stupidly, their mouths hanging open as if their minds were unable to work their eye and jaw muscles at the same time. She spoke loudly enough for them to hear. "Harold, take him down to the main office and call his parents. Be sure you search him for stolen pages when his parents arrive."

  The security guard pulled the boy towards him. "All right kid, let's go. Time to talk to Mommy and Daddy."

  "And don't you be coming back into this section of the library again." She stated firmly, piling the books into a neat pile, in preparation to carrying them over to her desk, where she would inspect them for damage. "These books are adult books, and the material in them is for adults only, not children."

  "But I can read them and I can understand them!" The boy wailed, half turning in the security guard's grip.

  "That I doubt. We know what you were actually doing. Don't we?"

  The boy suddenly stopped, tearing his shirt out from under the grip of the security guard.

  "Top of page 202, in that first book...," he shouted, pointing at the pile of books she had re-stacked. “...memory trace for complex discrimination resides in the cortex, whereas the communication system of the corpus callosum..."

  Harold yanked the boy off his feet and she missed the rest of his quote.

  "Don't come back here, again." She raised her voice as well, as his last outburst had probably been heard throughout most of the library. "You seem quite disturbed and I will have you promptly removed." She watched as Harold marched him through the double doors, the boy still struggling in his grasp.

  What a terrible ruffian, she thought as she hoisted the books into her arms, staring fixedly at two of the gawkers, the other two patrons having returned to their studies. Most of the other young perverts she had accosted had slunk away, their fears of discovery realized. That young boy was definitely sick. Sick and violent. She looked at the top book in her arms. What had he said about this volume? Something about, having memorized a certain page. She doubted it, and anyway she had forgotten what page number he had mentioned. She reached her desk and carefully piled the books on a cleared space, preparing to inspect them for damage. She would tell William about this, over dinner tonight. Who would have thought that the library was such a dangerous place to work?

  THREE - TWO

  "Why didn't you tell us you wanted to go to the library? I thought you were over at Jesse's." Chris' father asked, his dark features and straight black hair a match for Chris' own.

  "I thought you would think it was weird and you wouldn't have let me go." Chris answered, looking down at his hands, folded in his lap as he sat in the passenger seat of his father's Chrysler.

  The library security guard had called his home. Chris had thought it had only been a threat by the old librarian lady to scare him into leaving. But the security guard had actually done it. Demanding to see his wallet - which Chris had given him - although now he wished he had run from the library, while he had the chance. The security guard had found his library card, in its plastic wallet pocket, and had run it through the library's computer, retrieving his full name and address as well as his telephone number. Then the guard had called his home, luckily getting his father. Chris would have been mortified if his mother had answered the phone and the security guard had told her he had been caught looking for pictures of nude women in the library. But he hadn't been looking for pictures of nude women. If he had found such pictures, he certainly would have looked them over very carefully indeed, but he hadn't known such pictures were available at a library.

  "Chris my man, anytime you want to go to the library, you let me know. With your marks, we’d call a taxi to get you down there, if we had to." His father laughed. "Now, were you really looking at girlie pictures?"

  "No, Dad, I wasn't!" Chris burst out, his voice loud with earnest desire to convince his dad of the truth. "That old lady said I was, but I didn't see any dirty pictures. I didn't even know there were any to look at." He finished off, his voice high with emotion as he looked desperately into his father's face.

  His father laughed again, returning his gaze to the road as he navigated the back streets to their home. "Well, I don't really care if you were. I figure a boy has got to get his education someplace and I suppose you couldn't do wrong in a library." He paused, a slight frown on his face. "Do they teach you that stuff in school?"

  "Dad! I wasn't looking at girlie pictures!"

  "Well, what's this sudden interest in the human body then?"

  "I wasn't interested so much in the body," Chris began cautiously, "it was the brain I was more interested in and how it controls the body."

  "Wow! That sounds like pretty heavy stuff for a twelve-year-old to be learning about." Bob McCarter had quit school eight months into Senior High and, as he was quick to boast, never looked back. He was a truck driver and worked away from home five or sometimes six days a week, with the occasional 'runs' of two weeks or more, usually returning home for a couple days to visit with his family, before setting out again. He drove a brand-new Kenworth for B+T Trucking in Detroit. B+T had sixty trucks on the road and Bob owned six of them, including his own. Five were fully paid for, and his own, 'mortgaged to the hilt', as he liked to express his indebtedness. Bob's goal was to retire by the time he turned fifty, sell his trucks, cash in his retirement savings plans, and go live someplace warm.

  "Well, I don't need to write a report on the brain, or anything," Chris continued, "school hasn't even started yet. I just wanted to know more about how it worked. I was also going to study about Astronomy too, and a bit more about American and World History."

  "Well," His father grinned, "sounds like you had a full day planned."

  "I would’ve done it too. If that bitch hadn't kicked me out."

  "Chris, watch your language! I’ll have none of that talk."

  Secretly Chris was glad he had called the librarian a bitch. It removed some of the frustration and embarrassment he had felt as he was forced to leave the library, accompanied by his father. There was silence in the car for a while after Chris' last outburst until his father asked.

  "Chris, has this research got anything to do with the accident you and Todd had at that camp in Canada?"

  "No... not really," Chris began, "I don't even remember much about it. All I remember is waking up in the hospital."

  "Yeah, I know that. But your mother has told me about a machine you boys found. According to your Aunt, it was right beside where you both were hurt."

  "Oh yeah, that..." Chris had virtually forgotten about the find Todd and he had made on their last day at the mining camp. The camp was so far away, both in distance and in Chris' mind, time, that it seemed like months ago he and Todd had crawled through the long passageway. "Yeah...I wonder what that thi
ng was?"

  "So, you aren't researching buried treasure or stuff like that, are you?"

  Chris laughed, "No."

  "Good. I don't know how it might affect your Mom. But I don't think your Aunt Beth would like it too much." His father made a right turn onto their street. Forward Avenue was located in a suburb of Detroit that had only recently been reclaimed by a middle class, racially mixed population. Five years previously, people who actually had regular employment had been virtually unknown and those with jobs, who had ventured into the rundown area, had usually been relieved of their valuables in fairly quick order. Due to increased city grants to improve the area and repair many of the dilapidated homes, more and more wage earners had entered the suburb and now the lawns were again green, the homes repainted, porches repaired and a noticeable pride of ownership evident in the small houses lining each side of the street. Two blocks away was a sort of no-man's-land, and Chris never ventured there. But Forward Ave. was safe, at least - reasonably so. Chris glanced over at the small neighborhood restaurant as they turned the corner. A wooden sandwich board stood outside, advertising the day's specials.

  His father put on the turn signal and turned into their driveway, pulling the car up beside his mother's pink Mustang. "Your Aunt Beth is coming home today and your mother is going over to visit her. Let's not mention this little library incident."

  "Okay." Chris said, relieved.

  JOE'S DAILY SPECIAL: Roast Chicken, peas and carrots, mashed potatoes and gravy. Includes dinner-roll, Jell-O or rice pudding and beverage. $5.95.

  Chris remembered every word on the sign. He also remembered every word on the several hundred pages he had flipped through in the books he was able to examine in the library. "Hey Dad, if Mom is going to Aunt Beth's, why don't we go down to Joe's - they've got a great special."

  His dad grinned across at his son. "Yeah, let's do that!"

  A CAT Scan, formally known at the Computerized Axial Tomography, is the usual first method of choice in detecting physical brain disorders. Tumors, blood clots and cerebral abscesses all can be ascertained from the use of CAT Scans. However, only an MRI, formally known as a Magnetic Resonance Imaging, would have detected the transition that had occurred in Charlie's brain, just as only an MRI Scan would have detected similar, but different changes in Chris' brain. A web of spaghetti-like fibers had been inserted through the small hole in Charlie's skull. These spaghetti-like rods had pushed their way into the Lateral Fissure of his brain, each strand with its own specific coding, the DNA within determining the precise location each strand would migrate to. Some invaded all three Cortical Speech Areas, others pushed their way through the grey and white brain tissue deep into the Hippocampus, where new memories are received and dispersed. Even more of the white worm-like strands invaded the Motor Cortex and the Olfactory tract and still others linked up with the Acoustic and Optic Nerve, entering the Occipital Lobe as they surrounded the nerve. And finally, the last few dipped under the Cerebral Cortex and entered the Frontal and Temporal Lobes. As the last portions of Charlie's brain were penetrated a further transition took place. The strands became less defined, their rigidity subsiding, like spaghetti in boiling water and they merged and blended with the tracts of white connecting tissue, the axons, that crisscrossed the brain.

  The transformation was complete and moments later Charlie awoke. His brain was still capable of controlling his own heart rate and breathing and other involuntary responsive actions, but little else. He was, in a real sense - a new man. His decision-making abilities, his sensory perception, his goal and planning facilities overwhelmingly controlled. And as the people working and living in the camp were about to discover, his interest in their well-being - non-existent.

  THREE - THREE

  The party was held in an empty double-wide trailer. All the adults in camp were there, including three employees of Ontario Northland Railway, who had arrived with two passenger cars for the camp staff as well as forty loaded ore cars from a working mine further up the main rail line. Two of the wives took turns watching the children in camp as they had their own 'children's party' at another unoccupied, but fully furnished trailer.

  Charlie hadn't attended, which suited many of the men just fine. Although Charlie was a fair boss and only a few of the workers had any real concerns with his methods, most of them were quite happy to 'party it up', without the boss in attendance.

  However, Tyson Greene was disappointed Charlie had not attended. It would have provided him one last chance to impress on the rest of them men how close he and Charlie really were. He made some inquiries regarding Charlie’s whereabouts, but few had seen him that day - and those that had said he hadn’t looked well. He’s probably still upset about his kid, Tyson figured. He supposed it would seem inappropriate to attend a celebratory party if your son was in hospital. Still, he wished Charlie would stop by at least to say hello.

  Strategically placed overhead-lights illuminated the dusty pathways throughout the camp. It hadn't rained in over three weeks and the walkways and grassy areas in the camp were as dry as the forest that surrounded them.

  A large man, hidden in the shadows behind a darkened trailer, watched as two women left the party and walked down the dirt pathways towards another trailer where the sound of children's laughter issued from its open windows. As they pulled open the door and disappeared inside, Charlie stepped out from his hiding place. His hands, the front of his jeans and the tops of his boots were smeared with grime and grease. Over one shoulder, he carried a four-foot-long pry bar, which he pitched under the rear of his own trailer as he got closer. Then he stood looking around carefully for any observers. Although wary and his motions meticulous, his face betrayed no emotion. No fear. No concern. Devoid of expression. He leaned against the front corner of his own trailer, looking cautiously down the ranks of trailers for other wandering figures. Then quickly, he made his way inside, closing the door behind him.

  Morning came early, the sun barely over the horizon as the two engines on the parked train coughed several times and then roared to life.

  Several members of the mining crew and their wives were moving about the camp, many of them walking on unsteady feet and wincing at any undue noise. The train was supposed to depart at 9:00 AM and would reach Cochrane at 11:30, where most of the crew would disembark.

  Charlie was also awake and active, blaming his absence at last night’s party on his emotional state. He even managed to smile numerous times, the muscles on his face twisting his lips into a broad grin whenever the occasion seemed to demand that reaction. He carried two heavy suitcases over to the rear of the first passenger car and handed them up to one of the railway workers, standing on the platform.

  "You don't look so good this morning." Charlie said casually, as the man belched, then groaned as he picked up the two pieces of luggage.

  "Damn Tequila. I'll never drink the stuff again." The railway worker mumbled as he hauled the suitcases, none too gently, into the car.

  Charlie turned away. He didn't care about the suitcases. He would have no need of their contents and he had packed them in ten minutes, shoving anything handy into them, in order to fill up the space.

  "Hi, Charlie." Tyson, spoke from behind him. "How’re you feeling?"

  "I'm fine this morning." Charlie answered, “sorry I couldn’t make the party last night.”

  “That’s okay, it wasn’t much of a party anyway. Mind if Shelly and I join you for the ride out?”

  “Afraid not Tyson. I’ll be riding up front. NorthCan wants me to keep a look out for another staging area, in case we can’t finish that rail-line all the way down to the mine.”

  “You’re going to ride up in the engine?”

  “Yeah. I can watch both sides of the track better from the engine than in a passenger car.”

  Tyson shrugged. “Okay, we’ll see you in Cochrane then. Maybe we can have a beer together there.”

  “Sounds good.” Charlie said, moving aside to let Jason's two k
ids climb onto the stairs, their black eyes glistening with anticipation of the long train ride ahead.

  The train remained on the siding - 9:00 had come and gone and the big diesels engines idling as the engineers awaited the last stragglers. Finally, Charlie reappeared through the trees, his hands swinging in time beside him as he walked over to the front engine and climbed aboard.

  "Okay," Charlie said, "everybody is on board."

  "Good." The engineer looked at his watch. "Not bad, 9:35. We won't be too late."

  "It took a bit longer to get loaded than I had figured, though," Charlie said, "and I’ve got a flight to catch, in Cochrane. Do you think you could speed it up a bit, at least until we reach the main line.”?

  The engineer looked at his companion and shrugged. "I suppose so. This line is in top shape, thanks to you guys and I hear that the head office guys gave it a final inspection a couple of weeks ago." He smiled at his helper, a short stocky bald man with an abundance of hair growing out of each ear and both nostrils. "I figure we can give her a test and push her a little more than we usually do."

  "I appreciate that. Give me a couple minutes to climb aboard and I'll buy you guys a beer when we reach Cochrane."

  "Sounds good to me!" The engineer replied, watching as Charlie crossed the cab and climbed down on the side opposite to the camp.

  "Seems a nice enough guy." he commented as he turned towards the controls of the engine. "Let's get her ready to go."

  Charlie jumped down from the bottom step, landing lightly on his feet in the gravel. Then moving quickly alongside the second engine, he crouched low, hugging the side of the two passenger cars as he walked towards the platform on the rear of the second car. Tyson and his wife were the only two people who knew of his intention to travel in the engine portion of the train and they were seated by the windows opposite to the ones he was now passing underneath. He reached the platform, on the rear passenger car, and pulled himself up the steps with the use of an iron railing attached to the car. As he did so, he glanced back to see if either of the engineers had noticed his unusual posture as he had walked alongside the train. The entrance to the engine was vacant, apparently the engineers were occupied with other tasks. Crossing to the camp side of the platform, he waited.