In Search of Neva

By S. Alan Schweitzer

In Search of Neva is a science fiction-fantasy thriller that takes place in the near future. Two central characters, Eric and Rick Styles live in parallel universes, and each desperately tries to win the love of the beautiful but enigmatic woman Neva Bryant. The novel has many twists and turns, As Eric and Rick deal not with the realities of parallel worlds, but they confront and face the additional horrors of cloning experiments which have changed and distorted the social, business and political fabric of life. A malignant Companys experiments have occasioned an evil, sinister world in which murder, incest, and sexual perversions are common. Eric and Rick navigate in these troubled waters caused by the Company where they work, and they long to assuage their fears and doubts through the redemptive powers of love and redemption. They both discover, however, that the two "Nevas" who inhabit their respective parallel worlds are quite different in character and influence within the emerging worldscape caused by the scientific revolutions of human cloning and of parallel world transfer capabilities.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Nov 25, 2002
• ISBN: 9781403387868

S. Alan Schweitzer

Alan Schweitzer was born in Philadelphia, PA and grew up in southern New Jersey. He is the author of six scifi-fantasy novels. A retired Spanish professor and reference librarian, his scholarly writings on twentieth-century Spanish/American literature have appeared in several academic journals. He holds a BA, MA, PhD, and MLS. An avid reader, Mr. Schweitzer now lives in Ohio with his wife Barbara and enjoys traveling and listening to classical music.

Book preview

Chapter One

Eric could not stop running after the resplendent image which had called to him, taunted and teased him. Infuriated yet filled with resolve he continued in hot pursuit of the evanescent vision, which was running, which would then stop, turn, and stare at him in a languorous, yet mischievous glare. Then the image would beckon to him and would run ever so swiftly. Yet her legs seemed to move in slow motion, as if the image were gliding over water. Eric then began to tire. He suddenly felt that his legs were slowly being pulled from under him. He wanted to yell, to scream, but he was voiceless. Suddenly a force from some dark place was dragging him. He felt as if he were somehow flattened out, as if he were sinking into a bed of mud, a strange admixture of foam and water which was metamorphosing into some vile soft plastic material. The world spun around him; the spongy morass which had claimed him spewed him out, and he witnessed a glistening forest directly ahead, a dense tree line that furiously changed colors, from light green to bright orange to mute black. Again he tried to scream but was unable to do so. Then, only then, did his horrified call reach out from this cancerous pit come to rest on the sweet hovering image of the beloved creature who was now pursuing her pursuer. Her very merriment was the cause of his descent into a vortex of fear and confusion. It was her voice that transcended the silent wilderness and called out to him in modulated terror, Eric… Eric.

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Eric! Eric! Christ, Eric, wake up! A gravelly voice harpooned the slumbering man’s hold on its shadow world and dragged it out to the awakened consciousness, which was reluctant to part with the lovely yet terrifying image of an unfathomable beauty.

Damn, the awakened voice expressed its disillusion and futility in its unwillingness to relinquish its link with the wondrous yet tenebrous underworld of desire and seduction, an alliance that promised either salvation or damnation.

Sorry, Ned Corley said as he held up his hands in mock despair. You were yelling that you were sinking. What was it, the Titanic?

You’ll never know, Ned. God, how long have I been sleeping in the lounge?

A good half hour, old buddy. Hey, you remember you have a meeting with Crampon?

Eric Styles slowly reclaimed his wits as he looked steadfastly at his friend and colleague of three and a half years. Corley had worked in the accounting section of the Company for five years in sales. On many occasions Ned and Eric had complained about certain Company policies, or more plainly put, its lack of honesty in informing its own publicity officer, and, hence the public, of the full scope of its research projects.

You know, Ned, the pure gall is that I’m the P.R.O. man.

Well, perhaps you’re not yet a member of the club, Eric. Guys have come and gone during the years I’ve been here. Granted, I know some have made it, but the hierarchy’s been entrenched, and it’s been getting worsesince Blaisdell merged with Viacor. You and I well know everything’s been hush-hush. Hell, when did Blaisdell, a company which manufactures artificial body parts and related prosthetic devices, become interested in particle physics research? It just doesn’t make sense.

Precisely what I hope to find out, Ned.

Just what do you expect to get out of Crampton?

Eric hesitated momentarily. For three years, the ompany has taken its pound of flesh from my own dogged determination to put Blaisdell’s interest over my own. I know damn right well that assets have tripled, hell, quadrupled just in the course of the last two years. You just can’t tell me the earnings were limited statements on production of artificial limbs and prosthetics. What about the stem cell research? Crampton has released nothing on this. There’s too much subterfuge here.

I’m wondering if the merger with Viacor changed company direction, Ned responded. There is such a disparity, though; yet you apparently were never brought into the fold, Eric? I realize it doesn’t make any sense.

My days are numbered, Ned. I should have pushed more and demanded to inform the public about DNA research.

Blaisdell has plenty of company in experiments on cloning. Like, what’s the big deal?

They must be hiding something, Ned. Either personnel or Harris tells me or I’m out of here.

Are you sure you want out?

There have to be disparate enterprises with the merger. I think there’s more going on than developing telescopes and artificial limbs.

I’ve read your updates on the purchases of Microtrac Particle Analyzers. Seems Blaisdell-Viacor hasgovernment contract liaisons with GenMac supplies and Alpha Electronics. We’ve been buying and installing biomedical equipment, laser equipment, and a host of specialized DNA sequencing lab parts for all the years I’ve been here. Just what have we been selling?

Just the standard prosthetic devices, Eric. You yourself have put out the recent circular on cryo support systems.

Yeah, and I got in touch with Simmons at one of the research units at a plant which apparently supplied us with a plasma extraction device. You’ve aware this is a kit used with DNA sequencing.

Specifically cloning, you’re saying.

You said it, Ned, not I.

I don’t think you’re alone, Eric.

But Jesus, Ned, I’m the PR man. How absurd is this?

At that moment the telephone in the lounge buzzed, and Ned answered. After ten seconds, he hung up.

Your meeting’s been cancelled. You’re to meet with Crampton at ten on Monday. What are you going to tell him?

Eric sat down and quickly reviewed his three years at Blaisdell-Viacor. He was hired to work in the business unit; Unit One, it was called, to disseminate or publish information related to company manufacturing and distribution of prostheses and related orthopedic equipment which are used by people who required support due to limb malformation or disease. Within his first year Blaisdell began to invest heavily in animal organ transplant experiments and DNA splicing. Eric was then told only recently that he was to disseminate an article on the latest development on stem cell research. The article was published in a trade journal and simultaneously released online.

As biology major, Eric readily absorbed much of the technical information. In his second year with the company he prepared an elaborate website, which he updated periodically. Although he regularly attended general committee meetings, and he was provided with updated company related activities, social as well as business and technical, Eric sensed that much of Company research was never brought up at these meetings. Much was going on behind the scenes; activities about which he knew little or nothing. He had nothing to do with the quarterly or annual reports, as these disclosures were prepared in the business and accounting unit. These reports were never made public.

So what’s it going to be on Monday?

"Ned, I have yet to find out what Viacor’s role is in the DNA venture.

Well, ask Russell Crampton. Bring it up. What can you lose?

Only my job, perhaps.

That’s what you were going to ask today, wasn’t it?

Yeah, Ned. Only, now that I think about it, I’m going to tell them to put up or shut up. They’re into cloning for sure. I mean the damn thing has been developed for some time, for years.

Hey, come on, Eric, it’s nearly six o’clock. Let’s get out of here

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Eric and Ned chose a small family restaurant located in a quiet area of the city, which was developing into gradual gentrification, a project that was long overdue. It was located only a few blocks from Eric’s moderately priced town house. Both Eric and Ned had ordered crab legs and were intently involved in the ritual of separating the soft meat from the shell. Neither had spoken for five minutes, and then Eric muttered, I saw her, Ned.

Oh? Who?

Neva Bryant.

Yeah, Eric, wonderful.

She’s one of the reasons I came to work here, Ned.

Corley was making a fine mess with his dinner, and he stood up, cleaned off his trousers and then sat down and calmly asked Eric, O.K. Let’s have it. Who in the Hell is Neva Bryant?

She used to work here. I knew her. Or, rather, I wanted to know her. She was gorgeous, Ned. I never beheld any creature even remotely, as impossibly beautiful as she was… is.

Was?… is? Ned asked.

She was supposed to have worked in Unit Two.

You mean in Quality Control and Specifications? Ned asked.

That’s what Crampton told me. There was no reason not to believe him. She had worked there for a couple of years, but she left.

So what, Eric? You’ve got a romantic interest in this woman? Did you check out where she went to?

No forwarding address, nothing. I went to Personnel…

And you talked to Simpson.

The Personnel Director, yeah. He seemed pretty cryptic on the subject. Says she was hired initially in Q & S about three years ago.

So?

During the years I’ve been here, I’ve never seen Neva, but I think she’s still here. Again, why the lies? When I first applied I believed she was somehow involved in the Biotech Unit. I went to the library and searched the reverse directories within a fifty-mile radius but found nothing.

So what’s the point, Eric?

After the first six months I became restless, weary. I wanted to quit but the company insisted it wanted to retain me. They even offered me a raise.

Hell, what a difference two years can make. I mean, you’re now certain Harris wants you out?

"I actually began to lose interest in Neva during these past three years. I saw some different people… My work was steady. I continued to go over the reports, kept up with technological trends and all that. Yet, Ned, you know, we’ve talked about this before. The Center is holding back information to me, for Christ’s sake."

You did have an earlier meeting…

Yes, this week. It was also cancelled. So I called him to see if we could get together early next week.

Harris is as slippery as a proverbial eel, Ned cut in. From what little I know of him, he’s unscrupulous, devious, and generally unavailable to the company peons. So he’s bright and obviously quite the entrepreneur. I mean, you don’t get to be CEO of two merged companies. What have you been disseminating on Viacor projects?"

Only that the center has received some three million dollars, courtesy of two foundations. One was from a government agency, a subdivision of the NSA. No further details were furnished. The other grant, one that I learned just recently was a continuing funded program sponsored by a university. Ohio Central.

Interesting. Ned asked the scope and purpose of the foundations. Eric could only say that Viacor was engaged in some clandestine research in particle physics. The information he received was that the new unit, Section Three, was involved in the manufacture and development of superconducting materials.

That’s what little I know, too, Eric. It seems that there’s a renewed interest in developing the supercollider.

And we both know that the SSC became defunct despite the billions of dollars poured into it.

Indeed, Eric said, Blaisdell-Viacor doesn’t get involved with that much cash, at least not that we know of. But then again, we should know about all the developments in R & D around here. Seems as if the merger were picking up some past miscarried project. It all seems pretty damn occult.

To us both, Eric. Ned studied his friend closely. He said nothing as he continued to eat. He had known Eric for as long as they both worked at the Company.

Eric frequently discussed his career and past life with his friend and colleague. Several times Ned would travel to Eric’s home town of Bay Park, a moderately sized community of seven thousand people located in Central Ohio. Both visited Eric’s surviving but ailing mother. Eric would recount endlessly his happiest moments in his high school and college years. Eric confessed that he felt hopelessly in love with many girls, even during his elementary school years. These intense passions would last usually three or four months, then inevitably the demonic fires would subside only to flame anew when a new pretty face caught his attention and would re-ignite his obsessions. This sort of thing went on apparently for many years of Eric’s life. Romantic as he was, Eric rarely, if ever, he had told Ned, received any reciprocal responses by any of his adored female images. Quite the contrary, if and when any of these young women found out that he had a crush on them, they would invariably spurn him. Eric admitted hisshyness. Rarely, if ever, did he actually approach his living shrines. He always worshipped them from afar. He would sulk when a friend or acquaintance told him that the girls often gossiped about his awkwardness, his clumsiness and lack of machismo.

Eric retreated within himself, buried himself in his studies, and he eventually graduated with honors from high school as well from college. Quiet, reserved, and totally honest, Eric did well academically. He excelled in his science courses, and did surprisingly well in his business studies. He went on to do his graduate studies at the University of Akron where he earned his MBA. During the last years at Kent and Akron, Eric’s romantic proclivities subsided. He dated a few women now and then, but there were no ongoing relationships. That is, until he saw Neva Bryant after a six year hiatus.

Eric and Neva happened to meet by chance in the Akron University Library. She was finishing her masters program in the field of Microbiology. Both exchanged pleasantries cordially and talked about their high school days. The talk was innocuous enough as they discussed former students or teachers, and blandly related their current academic achievements. Eric was totally smitten by her loveliness and her candor, her easygoing manner of speech and expression. Young, beautiful, she was the model of professional dignity, not unlike Eric himself. Yet Eric noticed something different about her since he saw her during the high school years. Her comportment, her manner of expression suggested to Eric certain aloofness, an attitude which bordered on coolness, an icy reserve.

Eric told Ned that he actually dated Neva a total of five times, all of which were dinner dates. There was nointimacy between them. On his sixth attempt to contact Neva, Eric left a message on her answering machine.

A week later, Ned, I learned that she was no longer at Akron. She simply flew the coop. I tried calling some friends of hers, and, for the most part, I couldn’t, or didn’t get any information, except for the possibility of one lead.

Which was? Ned asked.

Some girl who was in a couple of courses with her. I don’t recall the name. But she and Neva were biology majors. The friend had mentioned that Neva preferred to be called Katherine.

But you’re sure she was talking about this… Neva?

Yeah, I’m sure. This person told me that she was contacted by Blaisdell, and that she had to leave the university. Since then, there was no further word from her. I contacted the girl with whom I had talked and asked her a couple of times if she had heard from Neva. Sal said that Katherine apparently never returned to complete her graduate degree.

So, Ned then understood, You did some research on the company, to find out if she took a job here, or what?

Or what, indeed. I went to the Administrative Office, and the clerk told me that there was no Neva Bryant at the Company. I then asked if a Katherine Bryant ever worked there. The clerk told me to wait a moment, and that’s when I met Simpson in Personnel.

What did he tell you?

"Simply that Neva was a part-time employee in Genetics. When I asked Russell about her name, he casually said that she was born as Neva Bryant, but that she preferred to be called by her middle name. I tried to prod him for more information, but he was not particularly forthcoming. He said he knew little about her, other than thefact that both her parents died when she was quite young. She had friends at the Blaisdell-Viacor Center who apparently took care of her. When she got older, she worked at the Center. When I asked him what she did, Simpson never responded. He simply went on to say that during her school years, she would work some weekends, and she worked two months during the summer.

And you wanted to know where she was.

Simpson said she was unavailable at the time. He said she was vacationing, but he wouldn’t tell me where. Then he changed the subject and started asking questions about me, who I was, my interest in Neva, or Katherine, and what my academic background was.

So you took the bait, filled out the application form, and here you are.

Ned, I did see her about three or four months after I was hired. Actually, she was with Harris.

The Director? Ned gulped down his drink.

After the first four months in PRO, I tried again to locate her.

"I’ve checked with General Projects Manager Crampton, with Dickson in Prosthetics, plus some of the others in Genetics, and only one admitted to having actually seen her, yet none worked with her.

So where is she, Eric?

God only knows. None of us has seen her, at least lately. As far as anyone can tell, those who have admitted having seen her at all, she either worked briefly and left or she has, or had some role in the company I don’t know about.

A few department units are well off limits to some people, Eric.

Yeah, so much for my clout as Publicity Officer. You know, I’ve never mentioned her name to anyone since then.

Yet you say you saw her recently.

I’m sure of it. I saw her come out of Harris’ office. She saw me, Ned, and she quickly went down the hall of the A.O. She actually ran down past the Administrative Offices so as to avoid me.

You’re practically paranoid, my friend. Just ask Crampton when you see him. Just remember you do have more important things to discuss.

Yeah. Like my future here. You know, she just may be involved in this?

In what, Eric? Don’t tell me it’s a case of an aborted romance. Come on, Eric.

This isn’t the first time Crampton cancelled an appointment, Eric half muttered to himself.

So, you’ll see him Monday, right?

Sure. Fine. Come on. Let’s order.

Eric shook his head and managed a slight grin and was about to eat his steak dinner, which had cooled, and then he blurted out his confession. Neva is there, Ned. I damn well know it.

Oh. Corley decided once and for all to finish his dinner before it became unpalatable.

I’ve retrieved a blood sample.

Come again? Ned continued eating his cold steak.

I got Len Haskins to get me a sample of her blood.

What? Whose? Neva’s?

She somehow must work, or… does something at Blaisdell. You know company policy. At first hire, before we actually start, you know. All employees have their blood samples taken and stored. Have you ever asked why?

Ned stopped eating, and he decided to call it quits. I don’t know, Eric. Hell, you’re the PR guy. It’s all listed in the Rules and Policy Manual.

Something to the effect that all personnel must submit to a blood test which will be stored and held on record. You and I both know it’s required.

I had mine taken twice. I asked Haskins. Rather, I guess, I bribed him.

Jesus, Eric. What the Hell are you saying? Bribery! Christ!

I saw Neva just a few days ago. Three weeks ago I approached Len and asked him about Katherine. At first he refused. I guess this didn’t surprise me. I offered him a couple of hundred for the sample.

Do you know what you’re doing, Eric? You’ll get fired for sure. You may even go to prison. What the Hell for? Why a blood sample?

I’m sure the Center has been into cloning for some time. I’ll bet my ass, Hell, at this point, my bloody career.

Where’s the sample, Eric?

Safe and sound.

You’re going to Crampton on this, Ned was resolved not to become involved in this scheme.

Don’t worry, Ned. It’s my show, my ass.

Just what’s Haskins’ role in this? Ned asked.

Much of the info from Micro comes from Len, Eric then continued. You know I received many accolades on my last summary report."

The one you did on cord blood stem cells.

The debates and protests have long subsided, as we’re all aware. Several hospitals locally and nationally have utilized our research on transplantation. Hell, I evencollaborated with Nielson, who supplied much of the technical detail.

But even he was mum about any developments in cloning.

Despite the fact that cloning is yesterday’s news. Why the tight-lipped bullshit?

And you think Neva… or Katherine, is it? Is involved?

She, as well as other in-club elites.

So you’re going to clear up the mystery once and for all?

I don’t know, Ned. If the Blaisdell Center refuses, or gives me the runaround, I’ll quit. I’ve already checked out other companies. Several institutes are well into cloning, have put up job vacancies on the university bulletin boards three years ago. I’ll go to one of them.

Come on, Eric, let’s get out of here. Hey, look, the bill’s on me.

Both were about to get up when they noticed two men approaching their table. Eric recognized them as company security agents.

Hey, Jeff, what’s up? We’re about to leave. Ned asked. Want to join us for a drink?

Can’t. Jeffery Kaelin was accompanied by a 270-pound giant who stood silently behind him. Frank and I were told to meet you. Seems you’re wanted back at the Center.

What for? Eric chimed. Why now? It’s past eight o’clock. Ned looked at his watch.

How did you know we were here? The two men said nothing.

Did you follow us? Eric looked at Ned with a worried expression.

Just following orders, Frank Whittington then said. Kaelin here called me at home and said to come along. No specific reason why.

Kaelin was Security Supervisor for the joint Blaisdell-Viacor operations. Eric immediately thought of Haskins and the blood samples.

You may as well go, Eric, Ned affirmed. Don’t worry. Maybe you’ll get answers, even at this late hour.

Eric nodded, got up and left with the security men. Ned thought he heard a commotion outside the restaurant. Several patrons got up to look outside the front window. Ned noticed Eric’s struggling with Kaelin and Whittington as they were literally forcing his friend into the vehicle parked directly in front of the building.

Someone call the Police! several people shouted.

Ned rushed out the door and shouted to the security officers. What the hell do you think you’re doing?

Stay out of it! Whittington barked. This doesn’t concern you!

Eric was forced into the front seat of the vehicle, and Kaelin opened the rear door to get in. Ned noticed a shadowy figure in the back seat. A third man had apparently come with Kaelin and Whittington. At first, Ned couldn’t determine who this apparently invited guest was. He managed to get a closer look before the car sped off. Ned thought for just one brief second, and he felt he couldn’t be certain, but he silently swore to himself that he had just seen Eric’s double.

Chapter Two

When Rick Styles was thirteen he was smitten by the stunning, elusive, impossible beauty of Neva Bryant. From that tender year of early pubescence to his present age of twenty-eight, he luxuriated in a host of various love affairs of varying lengths and intensity. Despite the fact that he was an acknowledged bookworm with his somewhat nerdy interest in the physical sciences, his popularity and image with the girls in the small town of Lichfield Park during his schools were lukewarm but sincere. Despite his lack of interest in sports or his obstinate desire to avoid those social activities that hinted of special liaisons with certain elitist groups, Rick nonetheless enjoyed a somewhat fringe status among his peers. Yet as he grew older, his personality and chemistry had changed considerably. Women became quite drawn to him. His tall stature and piercing blue eyes were like magnets to the many young women who were smitten with him. Two high school cheerleaders opted for his company at the chagrin of certain popular jocks, some of whom actually threatened to do harm to Rick if he persisted in his amorous quest. Rick was not perturbed, nor did he ever knuckle under any intimidation. He took his personal social life in stride, enjoyed female companionship, and, in many occasions, he shared with them his own love and passion for the sciences, in particular, in the subject areas of Astronomy and Cosmology. Most of his relationships were actually lukewarm and tepid. Many women were lovely and sensuous, yet so many tended to be too cautious when it came down to unyielding surrender to the lascivious needsof the yearning party. There were three lively beauties, two in high school and one in college, who were lusty if not downright bawdy. Between these sundry romantic attachments and his academic studies at the local state technical college, Rick fared well, and he managed to graduate cum laude in the joint disciplines of computer science and theoretical physics.

It was during his second year in the Masters Program when he saw her. Her name was Neva Bryant, and Rick was instantly enraptured. He guessed her weight at around 125 pounds; she was a model of sculptured symmetry in motion. Her hair was dark brunette, and it seemed to float about her shoulder as she walked. Her brown eyes evinced an elusive quality, not unlike her personality. There was a hint of sadness, a sense of psychical withdrawal. Her eyes dropped somewhat, which softly heightened the classical, straight, exquisite nose, which balanced her mouth, whose sullen, protruding lips, were forever cast in a pouting expression.

Rick Styles was caught in a rhapsodic paradox of proximity and distance between him and his image of perfection. He finally met her in the college bookstore, where he struck up a banal conversation which would eventually lead to the inevitable question of a get-together for lunch, perhaps for dinner, even for an evening stroll around campus. To no avail. Either she was too busy, or she had a previous engagement. Nothing against him personally, she assured him. She did on two occasions settle for lunch as well as dinner. She liked his sincerity, his obvious interest in her academic pursuits as well as in her personal activities and pastimes. She was a religion major. She had graduated from Penn State in College Park, Pennsylvania, and she was continuing study for her masters at Akron University in the field of comparative religions. She hoped to complete her degree program within a year and a half, which was standard time to earn thirty-six graduate credits. In their brief time together, she had informed Rick that she rarely, if ever, became involved in social activities. She had few friends, and, mostly these were confined to her dormitory roommates. She liked to read and play piano. She never said a word about family or home life. She admitted that she was never affiliated with any church, or with any ecclesiastical organization. Her interests were mainly scholarly, and she was indeed fascinated with mankind’s religious origins and how these evolved from the various mythical roots. Eventually she planned to teach, hopefully at the college or university level, during which time she hoped to achieve her doctorate.

The third date proved to be the final one. He would call her dorm several times per week. Then suddenly she disappeared. One of her roommates told Rick that Neva had to leave because of some emergency, the details of which were never revealed.

The forlorn suitor retired from his arduous pursuit, as he turned progressively inward, becoming oblivious to his surroundings; the sole exception were his studies, as these sustained him during his increasing sense of alienation from his fellow students. His melancholic state persisted during the ensuing months. He persisted in his graduate studies, eventually earning the masters by late August. He now felt that he would have to be highly motivated by his new