With These Eyes (4 page)

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 Leese,
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.