Innecto

By Leland Dyer

Innecto follows the story of two brothers, Jason and Donovan, on a path that brings them together after the murder of Jasons son. Veronica, Jasons wife, has a seemingly incurable illness that makes her invincible, but also incoherent. Vanessa, a newspaper writer who has a curiosity about Physics, is searching for answers after her religious world has been turned up-side-down. Jason must reconcile with his sons murderer and try and solve the mystery of his wifes illness, Vanessa must risk everything to pursue her questions, and Donovan must confront his own demons and reconnect with his soul mate, Zoe Jane.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Apr 10, 2013
• ISBN: 9781481720991

Leland Dyer

With a keen eye for questioning the norm, Lee finds ways to turn his internal struggles into thick, thought provoking plots that may even make the reader think about the world around them in a different way.

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2013 Leland Dyer. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 3/7/2013

ISBN: 978-1-4817-2098-4 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4817-2099-1 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2013903595

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid.

The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Table of Contents

PREFACE

INNECTO

THE BOX THEOREM

Preface

How this book came to be

When I started writing this novel, I was fourteen and was a different person. I was an angry athiest and wanted to write about being anti-religious and thinking that I knew better than everybody else.

Then I got into the general concept of time travel and quantum mechanics, which opened up a world of science fiction to me to build a story on. Parallel universes were interesting to me and so the first incarnation of this story was call Polyverse. It surrounded two characters: Jason, some sort of physicist, and Donovan, a man a part of a parallel universe shifting group that acted more like a police crew keeping the science experiment gone awry that Jason had encountered under control and under wraps.

The concept was going to culminate into this war between heaven and hell and would meet right on our plane of existence. Each plane had a number, and earth was #50, where hell was #0 and heaven was #100. I got to about page 50 before realizing that the rules I had made about how people transferring between universes wasn’t cohesive whatsoever. The third character’s name was Veronica, Jason’s love interest. This will sound familiar.

Through writing classes in high school I slowly formed the plot of a two part story scrapping only the names and concept of parallel universes from Polyverse. The first part was Innecto, which means to entangle that surrounded Donovan, Jason and Zoe Jane in high school. Its parts were salvaged for the final book, but most of it was taken out because it was too violent and people didn’t like how graphic it was. The detail of which I described the violence was an experiment to explore ultra violence. Some people watch horror movies, some become serial killers, I wrote about ultra violence. The second part, which would just become Innecto anyways, was Explico: to make plain. The idea was the Innecto would entangle and raise all the questions and Explico would answer all the questions.

I then wrote the first 30 pages or so of what would become this book in Mr. Haseley’s creative writing class in 2008 and by then I had a really good idea of what was to happen. The first draft was finished May 3rd, 2010 with 90% of what is in the book written. The final draft was finished December 13, 2012 after I had gotten married and my first child was born.

What this Story Means to me

It doesn’t take a Doctorate degree in psychology to see obvious personal references in this book. Writing is often an outlet for hidden feelings and this project is no different. Through this book, I express my thoughts on religion and how it can be for good and bad. This was a difficult topic for me, and so I made it the topic for Jason.

My 14 year old self represents Jason, an arrogant anti-religious douche who thought that his opinion was the only truth in the world. This stems from my feelings of betrayal when I was 13 and had recently left my Catholic school and discovered an alternate point of view after The Matrix had opened my mind. What the film did to me was make me ask the question: what is God? My answer was: explanation for things we don’t understand. It felt like I had been lied to my whole life, worse than finding out Santa wasn’t real. That was where my feeling of betrayal stemmed from.

My 18 year old self is represented by Donovan, a more balanced view of religion as a whole. Other characters in the story experience some sort of faith struggle in the story as well. This story is about my personal struggle with faith and my transformation to a more balanced point of view.

This story is also about introducing an alternate point of view of the universe. The ‘hallucinations’ presented in the book are almost verbatim references to hallucinations my good friend, Gus Schultz, had when we were teenagers. You can refer to ‘The Box Theorem’ (back of the book) and also, The Box: Quest into Consciousness (on Youtube) a college documentary I made on it. They both present the same idea, just in different forms, although the Theorem delves deeper into it because it matured longer than the film.

Huge influences on the book are the non-fiction works of Michael Talbot, whose name I use as an anagram in the book to name characters, and the Seth books. I basically brought different ideas from both bodies of work into a fictional universe.

The whole point of this book is to make you think.

Style

You may find yourself asking why I wrote this book in the fashion that it is in: present tense, and with no chapters. This is because of the concept of a hologram. It is holistic in nature, and I want to portray that in a physical form. Also, it is in present tense because, as you may read in The Box Theorem, all time exists simultaneously. Reading a book that is always in the present tense, even though if you read it linearly things ‘happen’ before others, they’re still happening in the present. Regardless of that, however, I do insert – to denote that I’m making a switch in story-telling.

Why courier? Is it to add more length in pages and seem bloated? No. When I was a little kid my dad had an electronic typewriter from the 1980’s that I wrote my first historical fiction of World War 2 on. I’m very fond of the typeface and chose it for my first real book because it was the first font I ever typed with.

The visual appearance is also unique. Its a novel trying to be a screenplay, basically. I don’t really have a reason for that. It just sort of happened.

Also, flashbacks are indicated by being fully italicized and justified to the right so that there is no mistaking what is being portrayed.

for Gus, Victoria, my Dad, and Kayla

Innecto

–

It’s dark. A dark blue haze illuminated by the reflecting dust and other molecules floating in the space so ominous it can’t be ignored. A voice, alternating with a whistle, echoes in the great stone hall, a church.

Row, row, row your boat gently down the stream merrily, merrily, merrily, life is but a dream…

Then the man whistles it. He walks down the middle aisle casting a soft shadow in the moonlight periodically dabbed with the colors from the stained glass. It seems as if the man appears to be an upright black shadow himself with his black combed back hair and long, caped coat gliding along the ground so slightly.

In contrast, on the other side of the interior behind the altar, a white outline appears from a doorway, locking it behind him; the Priest. It does not take long for the Priest to notice an unwanted presence in the large space of the church.

Who are you?

The Priest inquires, not really sure what to make of a man whistling a child’s song in the dark while he was about to leave.

The dark figure stops, his last footfall echoes more so than the previous.

You do not fear me, Father?

The dark figure’s voice is rather low, grinding almost, with a light breath whistling slightly out of his nose.

The Priest is quick to answer,

"It is not easy to scare a man like me in a place like this, oh mysterious one,"

You know me, Father. It’s been a while I know, but you know me,

How?

The black-caped man approaches the cleric by the altar.

"Why can’t you see that you’re unfaithful, I once wrote. I do not regret what I did because I meant what I said. Most people who claim to follow the teachings of Jesus do so not in their heart,"

The Priest’s gaze twists as he listens,

Donovan?

Yes,

A harsh shadow still covers Donovan’s face; his black hair looks almost blue in the moonlit tint.

Where have you been?

I’ve been searching for truth. I found it, but I do wish to apologize for the things I said to you. Not to say they aren’t true by any means, but because it doesn’t matter. You were not the one I was angry at and I’m sorry I accused you,

Samant, the Priest, develops a tiny grin as if to say, I knew you’d figure it out, on his face.

I’m glad you found it, Donovan,

That is all I wish to say. Goodbye, Father.

And with that Donovan turns and walks back where he came from, whistling the same song, Samant watches him, proud somehow.

-—

There’s an entrancing grid, like graph paper, gliding in a walleye fashion. Looking downward in the distance, a tiny figure walks deliberately across the grid parallel to the lines. The sky is white. He focuses on the words he passes along: gridlock, system, structure, logic, a few more words that describe machines and mechanized entities are inscribed within blocks of the grid in an organized, evened fashion. The man walking is clearly not Donovan, but someone else entirely. His attire consists of the typical black and white suit and combed-to-the-side hairdo you see on a business street in a big city. The grid lines are black, the words-black, and the rest of the grid is purest of white. His shoes echo in a hollow fashion in the empty space. Then a floating, stationary switch approaches Jason, or rather he approaches it. It is one of those strings that are hung from a lightbulb in a basement. He stops before it, puzzled; he cocks his head in curiosity. He reaches for it and turns off the white - black.

The usual?

The cashier says,

Yep,

Jason replies casually. He had one of those kinds of dreams again. He doesn’t know what they mean, but they happen frequently, but he doesn’t ponder their meaning. Morning routine, wake up, shower, car, drop off the son, and cappuccino. The little coffee shop downtown reeks of its beans, of which Jason has no particular taste for, but it smells good anyways. He accepts the steaming Styrofoam cup with his black leather gloves. Not because it’s terribly cold but because it looks cool.

Two thirty-five, Mr. Varrowe,

Speaks the cashier delightedly,

How are the customers today?

Jason asks, curious to know how business is.

Mostly caffeine addicted morons who want nothing but their morning fix, like usual. If there weren’t people like you, I’d probably never open up another restaurant for the rest of my life,

They both chuckle,

How’s Dwayne? How old is he these days anyway?

Jason puts his lips to the steaming aroma that envelops himself to divert the clerk’s attention for a moment, taking in the beauty of the intoxicating cappuccino in his olfaction nerves.

Dwayne’s eleven and proud of it. He’s doin’ all right, just dropped him off at school. I also have a presentation for funding today in my lab, along with a visit with my wife,

The cashier whistles at the mention of his wife,

How did such beauty go to waste?

Jason thinks about taking offense to that remark, but agrees instead,

I don’t know, man. Wrong place wrong time-kinda how we met, you know?

The coffee shop, adorned with knick-knacks and green/white wood trimming with the counter, looks older like a place owned for generations while the village grew into a city, and all the while the shop watched it grow. Now it’s one of those tiny buildings amongst an array of technology and size overshadowing.

Ken, the cashier, wearing his round glasses and coffee ground-caked green apron fixes up some more orders while Jason relocates himself and his tux he’s wearing to one of the tiny chairs where plugged in employees doing their business on their laptops.

He sips on the French Vanilla water frothing at the mouth while he thumbs through the daily newspaper, ironically titled The Paper. Nothing really catches his fancy; sunny, high of seventy-four, a dog…

Somewhere on the other side of the café someone says dog just as he reads the word. Jason pauses and glances at the woman in silky pants and a button down. She doesn’t seem to be talking to him, or holding a newspaper.

What a strange occurrence…

Jason ponders, considering the probability of his thought coinciding with her speech: not likely at all. The sun comes from out behind a cloud and illuminates the room in a yellowish tint, warming the black pants on Jason’s leg.

Another sip, another article.

Jason swirls the over-powdered water around before gulping some of it and crunching the powder that slurps in with it.

So I was reading somewhere that humans are the ultimate life form, capable of so much creativity and intellectualism, yet every time I come to work I feel like I am sorely mistaken,

Ken tries to get Jason’ attention by speaking indirectly while cleaning up the sugar station just behind Jason and his thoughts. Jason blinks away from the paper a moment to chuckle in concurrence at the mess of sugar and cream.

Jason turns back with another sip and suddenly a ruckus of shouting comes from outside the door. Jason’s eyes click to the window in front of him. Outside on the facade walks a man, proud and brandishing a bible, shouting phrases from its contents in hopes of helping the ‘blind’ see.

The commotion stirs him, a last sip before he sets it aside, lifts himself out of the leather seat and out of the coffee house, Java the Hut. The bible brandishing babbler continues his rant,

Hey!

Jason catches his attention. The white hued street makes a mockery of the black the two are wearing so they stick out contrastingly. The babbler turns to face Jason,