The Far Sighted: The Novelettes of T. E. Mark

By T.E. Mark

The Novelettes of T. E. Mark contains five imaginative, thought-provoking, stories written by a fine contemporary storyteller.

Each is unique, fresh, profound and richly thematic.

A man who wants his wife to think more like him thus has her brain remapped mirroring his own.

The government’s attempts to exploit a gifted boy who can see through the eyes of others.

A man given an unsympathetic choice: die within a week or relive his life without his beloved wife and children.

An idealistic journalist who tries to educate the lower classes about their world but finds himself joining them and learning the truth about his own.

These are world-class stories written by a writer with a searching imagination and gift for making relevant statements in everything he writes.

• Language: English
• Publisher: T.E. Mark
• Release date: Sep 26, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463996430

T.E. Mark

T. E. Mark is an Anglo-American Science Writer, Screenwriter and Editor. He has studied Architecture, Music and Literature in the UK and in the US and has been penning stories since childhood. His first novel, Fractured Horizons, set in the wonderful of Bath England, was written at the age of 12.Mark has written novels for young and adult readers and a selection of science articles for national and international magazines. He also writes and edits academic papers on a variety of subjects for universities, governmental and non-governmental organisations.Follow T. E. Mark at:temarkauthor.wordpress.commthomasmark.wordpress.comtemarkurbanscratch.wordpress.comContact T. E. Mark at: [e-mail].

Book preview

(1)

BE CAREFUL OF WHAT YOU WISH FOR

OFFICE, SYNAPTEK ENT

‘Mr Butler, it’s good to see you, but…’

‘I know, I know,’ said the man, obviously distracted. ‘I’m not scheduled for today, and I didn’t make an appointment, but… I have something I wanted to see you about Mr Connelly. Something personal. I need your help.’

Travis Connelly, the SynapTEK operations administrator, recognized the concerned look on the man’s face and showed him into his office.

Besides being one of SynapTEK’s Premier clients, Daryl J Butler was a steamroller. A man who knew what he wanted, went after it and seldom if ever came away without it.

‘Take a seat, Sir.’ Travis watched him closely trying to assess his obvious anxiety. He made no eye contact, an oddity for the billionaire businessman, and seemed… uneasy. Even, agitated.

‘Can I get you some coffee?’

‘Coffee?’ He said this as if hearing the word for the first time.

Travis squinted.

‘No. Thank you. No coffee.’

Travis took the chair at his desk and remained quiet while the dynamic man began organizing his thoughts.

Daryl Butler was a handsome man with dark wavy hair and piercing, almost glowing blue eyes. He was impeccably dressed as always. Charcoal suit, white shirt, tie, high-glossed shoes. He looked like he’d just jumped from the cover of GQ magazine. A magazine that featured him, one of the more recognizable figures in the world, regularly. Often as the cover story.

*          *          *

‘Tell me, Mr Connelly. How often has SynapTEK provided multiple uplinks to the same person?’

Travis leaned back and squinted, never taking his eyes from those of his client.

‘It’s not uncommon,’ he said with slight hesitation while he tried assessing what the man was after. ‘We did one earlier today. An architect. He went away with one of your modules, in fact. But…’

‘…How many?’

‘If you’re asking how often, I’d need to…’

‘…No-no. How many.’

‘I’m not sure I…’

‘…How many modules did he uplink?’

Travis leaned forward. ‘Just two. One other besides yours. That’s our limit. We… we never go beyond two.’

Butler’s eyes sharpened as he leaned forward clasping his hands together on the man’s desk. ‘Why?’

‘Well.’ Travis paused for a moment as he reflected on SynapTEK’s inception and the many meetings they’d held with the psychologists and technicians. Many of them the top practitioners in the field.

‘The earlier conclusions were… the risks were too great. Each module uplinked makes subtle changes to the personality. Too many, it was decided, and there could be side effects.’

‘Side effects.’

‘That’s right, sir. With each…’

‘Can you…? These side effects. Can you be more specific?'

Travis took a silver stylus from his desk and began turning it over in his fingers – his eyes never leaving those of the now-focused Butler.

‘Breakdowns. We’ve had a number. Call them nervous breakdowns if you will, but… obviously, I can’t supply you with the exact numbers.’ Travis paused, took in a deep breath and exhaled. ‘The mind is delicate. Radical changes – increased capabilities can cause instability. Hell, this was common in people before uplink. Put someone through an intensive study program in maths, or science, or even a rounded humanities curriculum and you’re bound to have several people unable to handle the adjustment.’ He breathed. ‘Being more capable… suddenly more capable, in this case, can have drawbacks, and… side effects.’

Mr Butler gazed out the window into the vast office park thinking – analyzing – pondering. The tinted glazing was throwing an odd, almost surreal bronze light on his face as he focused on a new construction site in the distance.

‘These breakdowns,’ he asked, turning. ‘Were they greatly outside the statistical probabilities? Based on the number of uplink procedures you’ve performed?’

Again, Travis spun the stylus over in his fingers as he appraised the man,

‘No.’ He pushed his chin out and shook his head. ‘They were well within the norm or we would have had to consider curtailing operations. We may even have been shut down.’

Again, Butler turned his eyes to the large crane set atop a new high rise. ‘So, you have no proof – nothing conclusive that would point to the uplink modules as the definitive culprit in any of these incidents.’

‘What are you getting at Mr Butler?’ Travis placed the stylus on his keyboard and held the ends of his desk. ‘Perhaps I can better help you if you told me what it was you were after.’

Daryl Butler stood and walked across the austere office to the windows.

Connelly waited patiently.

*          *          *

‘My fourth wife and I divorced a month ago. But… we have, in fact, been living apart for over a year.’

‘It was in the news. I was very sorry to hear it. I remember my own divorce. That time can be very difficult, but… I’m still confused. What is it you believe we can do for you?’

Mr Butler turned and leaned against the railing that fronted the floor to ceiling windows. His face was now settled. He was himself, again. The formidable, bright-eyed self-made billionaire. CEO of several of the world’s largest international corporations.

Aerospace. His company, Lexington Inc, competed with names like Boeing and Airbus. His planes, with a fair number of the designs his own, circled the globe. Contracts with NASA, the ESA and the Chinese space agency.

His wind power company, Wind Energy LTD based in Scotland, was powering cities across the globe while desalinating ocean water for millions.

Add to that, a veritable laundry list of other companies had his name engraved on their corporate manifests as the CEO. Self-driving automobiles. Artificial Intelligence systems for telecoms and militaries. Software systems. Hardware. Building Automation Systems.

It was difficult to imagine someone with that many irons in the fire and having time for a family life. He was also the world’s greatest philanthropist to date with his generous contributions to the education systems in third world countries.

‘Each one,’ he began, but turned back to the crane in the distance that seemed an obsession as much as it was a distraction. ‘The same reason.’

Travis listened, recognizing the man needed an ear and…

Something…

‘They were intelligent women. Margaret was a corporate attorney. Well-read. Educated. On the admissions board at the Harvard Law school.’ He continued with his eyes glued to the construction site. ‘Denise was a brilliant dancer and choreographer. Dynamic in many ways. Art, Literature, Music, History.’ He stopped and laughed. ‘You know, she was certain Schliemann had it wrong and that she, she alone, knew where the real site of Troy was?’ He laughed again only harder. ‘Had me convinced. I was already in negotiations with the British Museum and the Turkish Government to begin an archaeological dig. We’d already started hiring the diggers when….’ His voice trailed off.

‘Sounds like an amazing woman.’ Travis watched him carefully as he continued pouring out his pain over his failed marriages.

‘Sandra, my first, ironically, was the least educated. A Liberal Arts degree from a university in the Midwest. Chicago.’

‘Why ironically?’

‘Hmm?’

‘You mentioned an irony.’

‘I did.’ He turned and faced the young executive. ‘Of the four, that marriage lasted the longest. Over five years.’

He seemed distant as he was obviously falling back into a memory.

He continued.

‘Victoria, my fourth, I thought would be the one. A fine design engineer who worked at one of my companies in the US. We had so much in common.’

Yet again his eyes seemed drawn to the crane. It was as if the man could not keep his eyes from progress. The world was a large erector set to this incomparably ingenious man.

Just the sight of a crane, a building rising from the Earth, drew him away.

‘I’m still,’ began Travis. ‘Not quite certain I understand what it is you believe SynapTEK can do for you.’

‘How long have I been your top contributor here, Mr Connelly?’

‘Since the beginning. Almost nine years now. There are people in every country; designers, engineers, corporate executives, city planners, working with uplink modules of yours. The mapping of specific areas of your brain identified with certain skills, through laboratory testing, has yielded some of our best product. The people who have gone through the procedure, had areas of their brains re-mapped with our 3d printing technique to match yours are probably responsible for 25 - 30% of the recent progress on our planet. In nearly every field.’

‘I obviously have value here then.’

‘That would go without saying.’

‘Then, I would imagine my rather unique request should receive adequate consideration.’

‘Unique?’ Travis leaned forward. His interest now piqued.

*          *          *

‘Each woman I mentioned, my ex-wives, they left for the same reason.’

‘Go on.’

‘There were minor differences, of course, but in the end, it came down to… to put it in Victoria’s words, I made them feel small. They couldn’t compete. Though… I never wanted them to compete. I mean… I never tried to make one of them feel the need to compare themselves to me.’

‘It must have been difficult for them,’ said Travis. ‘And for you as well.’ Travis felt as though he’d suddenly been tossed into the position of this man’s therapist. ‘You’re an amazing man, Mr Butler. I doubt there’s a more capable, more accomplished individual on Earth. I feel for your wives. If they did find themselves competing with you… well….’

‘So, Mr Connelly, perhaps it’s time I stated my interests.’

Travis waited, though, at this point he had a sneaking suspicion of what he was about to hear.

*          *          *

‘I plan to marry again.’

‘Of course.’

‘I’m not used to being single, nor am I, at 45, interested in learning how to live alone. Not at this stage of the game.’

‘I fully understand.’

‘But I want to do it right this time.’

‘And how do you plan to do that?’

Mr Butler moved to his chair and sat. His eyes were piercing and focused.

When he spoke his voice was soft, but strong and exacting.

‘I want my new wife to undergo a full set of uplinks. Every module I’ve contributed over these past nine years.’ He squinted. ‘Do you understand what I’m saying? All of it.’

Connelly’s brows went up. ‘Mr Butler…’ He looked him directly in the eyes. ‘I’m not sure you’ve…’ He’d wanted to say, thought this through completely, but thought better of it after reminding himself of who he was talking to.

This was a man who negotiated billion-dollar projects over breakfast and probably planned his attire for specific meetings, weeks, if not months in advance.

‘Perhaps I’ll try…. Mr Butler, we’ve never done it, nor have we even considered doing it.’

‘Not even as an experiment?’

‘We’re a business, sir. Not a research institute. If that’s been bandied about in a laboratory, they’ve never published their findings, or that white paper has never reached my desk.’

Butler stretched back and locked his fingers behind his neck.

‘How do we proceed, Mr Connelly?’

*          *          *

Fully aware of SynapTEK’s Premier client’s desires, and equally aware of his determination to get what he wanted, Mr Connelly weighed his immediate options and chose what he saw as the best of the lot.

He invited Daryl Butler to return to SynapTEK Inc in a week’s time. He said he’d present his request to the CEO, Arthur Jenkins, and the company’s chief psychologist, Sylvia Bream.

He told him the decision would ultimately come from Jenkins who would base his decision on the recommendations of Mrs Bream.

They agreed on a time with Travis Connelly checking schedules and sending off the electronic requests.

‘I wanted to ask,’ said Travis showing Butler to the door, quite certain of the answer he would get. ‘You have this girl, excuse me…’ He cleared his throat. ‘…young lady picked out I assume? Your bride to be?’

Butler smiled.

‘Girl would have been fine, Mr Connelly.’ He gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder, supplied confirmation with a nod and left.

*          *          *

While Daryl Butler was making his way from the building, Travis Connelly stood staring out his windows mentally percolating the idea.

A full remapping of the frontal lobe, pre-frontal cortex and the limbic system with 18 uplink modules. Nine outpatient procedures. Eighteen sections of the girl’s brain would essentially be rewired to match those of Mr Butler.

He admitted to himself his own intrigue at the prospect.

Though chiefly an administrator, Connelly did have a science background. His undergrad from the University of Washington was in Biology, and it was difficult not to feel that surge of adrenaline – that urge to test a hypothesis – to do something that’s never been done before simply, if for no other reason, than to satisfy a curiosity.

He took his seat and opened a new file titling it, flippantly, Butler_Project_X, and added notes about his meeting with Daryl Butler and proceeded with his day.

*          *          *

AIRPORT, SEATTLE

After an hour in heavy traffic after leaving SynapTEK, most of it spent on the phone managing his global enterprises, the airport limousine dropped him at the international terminal at Seattle’s SEATAC airport.

His destination, Bogota Colombia where he was to have dinner with Melinda Maria Pena, a quality control supervisor at SagiKOR Industries, an aerospace parts manufacturer Butler bought and craftily pulled from default seven years earlier.

Ms Pena was a bright-eyed blonde, with Vogue model looks, who, besides being eye candy to every man within a kilometer, was competent, articulate, modestly educated, and above all… dedicated.

She’d worked at SagiKOR as a parts inspector and was quickly moved up into a managerial role where she excelled.

Other promotions followed, and, if given enough time, the young dynamo would have ended up the chief operations manager if not the president.

Butler had met her at the company gala a year earlier, was taken by her charming self-confidence as much as her physical appeal, asked her to have dinner with him the next evening, and from there the two struck up a relationship that advanced to romance shortly thereafter.

This was around the time his marriage to Victoria was in decline with her already moved into a condominium near the pier in Redondo Beach, California.

After his divorce, Butler and Ms Pena escalated their relationship with him flying down for weekends or having her flown up to his Seattle residence on Lake Washington in the Laurelhurst neighborhood where they would spend Saturday’s jet skiing on the lake and quiet evenings alone or dining at Canlis in Seattle’s Queen Anne neighborhood.

In every way, they were the perfect couple. Attractive, energetic, driven and passionate. But then, it had been that way with each of his wives in the beginning.

And it was during this period, when he and Ms Pena were looking ahead at the next phase – the next step, as it were, that Mr Butler found himself thrust into the position of diagnostician and supreme strategist.

If I’m going to do this, he’d once said to himself while leaving the airport in Bogota for Melinda’s apartment in the La Candelaria neighborhood of the Colombian capital, I want to do it right. I don’t want five ex-Mrs Butlers out there.

The thought nauseated him.

Thus, looking at it like any high-stakes business venture, he’d evaluated his options, performed his own mental risk analysis and came up with his uplink solution.

It was a bold, even audacious plan. But, Mr Butler didn’t become Mr Butler by being timid or playing things safe. His successes were not steeped in linear thinking. Though a cliché term, in 2018, thinking outside the box pretty much described him and the way he made important decisions.

He’d presented it to Melinda at dinner one night while they dined on his boat. She was hesitant at first, but, after a week of mulling it over and having done copious research, and evaluating her own feelings for Butler, the idea became something else. The fear, or hesitation had turned into excitement.

For one thing, the cost of a single module, one enhanced remapping, or uplink, one square centimeter of a specific area of her brain remapped to the exact print taken from a top designer, composer, corporate executive or hot-shot engineer had a price tag of 750,000 US dollars. Three quarters of a million.

It was a procedure Ms Pena would never afford on her supervisor’s salary.

But, 18 modules?

13.5 million dollars, and the result? Or, payoff? Besides getting the man of her dreams, she’d conceivably, after the final imprint, awake with similar capabilities to one of the most creative and successful individuals on Earth.

Of, course I’ll do it. She’d said when they met at her apartment a week following his offer. I want to live with you forever, Daryl. I’ll do it for that reason alone.

Daryl was overjoyed.

He’d be getting what he’d always wanted in a spouse but only had for glimpses. A year, maybe, with each of his prior wives, then that same descent and loss of all that was bright and fresh.

*          *          *

MELINDA’S APARTMENT, BOGOTA

‘Oh, Daryl, I can’t tell you how happy I am.’

Melinda, in tight white shorts and a black bikini top, placed her hands around his neck and pulled him into a passionate embrace.

They were in her apartment standing together in the parlour only minutes after the airport limousine had dropped him.

‘You’re not afraid?’ he asked running his hands through her silky hair that seemed to glow against her summer tanned skin. ‘This doesn’t frighten you? Not even a little?’

She kissed him with her wet, full lips holding his as if hostage then pulled away and moved her hands to his tie and began undoing it.

She nodded and said no in a calm, soft voice then led him to her white leather sofa.

Her perfume, Coco Mademoiselle, he’d recognized it when he came in, was strong, filled the apartment, and she was wearing knockout Valentino Garavani sandals with her nails done in a cream white – nearly the color of her hair.

It was obvious she knew to the second when he’d arrive, and, as in the past, had planned for everything to be just right.

‘I’ll have you,’ she said as they sat. She swept a hand through his wavy dark hair. ‘And you’ll have me, but… you’ll have something else. From what I’ve read about the procedure, and from what you’ve told me, you’ll be getting something you’ve always wished for.’

Daryl pulled off his blazer, charcoal, custom tailored, slick but just conservative enough, took her face in his hands and stared into her luscious brown eyes.

Somehow, that infatuation one feels at the start of a new relationship hadn’t worn off. In fact, it seemed to be growing. For both of them.

He wanted her more now than when they’d first met. Sexually, of course, but his desire for her companionship was certainly as strong. If not stronger.

‘How was your meeting?’ she said unbuttoning his shirt. ‘You were successful, of course.’

Her eyes were sensual and flirtatious.

He gave her a confident smile. One that made her think of a strong-minded business man who’d just closed a deal and of a little boy who had just talked his way out of trouble with a carefully manufactured fib. And in many ways, Daryl J Butler was both.

‘I can’t imagine them refusing,’ he said, now bare chested – his hands fumbling with the ties of her bikini.

‘No,’ she said tilting her head and arching her back while shaking her hair like a swimsuit or lingerie model. ‘I can’t imagine anyone refusing you… anything.’

*          *          *

DARYL’S OVERSEAS TOUR

The week passed quickly.

Daryl spent the weekend with Melinda then set off Monday before dawn for Edinburgh to attend the initiation of Wind Energy’s 6th off-shore wind farm.

Though just a photo shoot with Scottish dignitaries that included Edinburgh’s mayor, Scotland’s Labour Party candidate, many of the installation’s top engineers and Prince Harry and his American bride, it was something he’d grown used to but still saw as a waste of time and resources.

I mean, he once said on the way to an offshore site in China for a similar affair, "Aren’t we supposed to be in the business of saving resources? Hell, even the planes we’re designing are still using fossil fuels. I’m quite sure