Mind Hackers: WildTech Adventures, #1

By Edmond Dougherty

Cole Cheetum would like nothing more than to quietly tinker in his lab on the Wildwood, NJ boardwalk. His past inventions and quirky personality have earned him a warm place in the heart of America's popular culture.

 

A disturbing personal incident and his insatiable curiosity take Cole out of the lab and into a high stakes mystery where he meets Jenna Leigh. She had been hiding behind an ordinary persona, but with Cole's help she decides to finally unleash her unique untapped powers.

 

Together, they, and their intrepid team of techies, crisscross the country, racing time to trap a vicious psychopath before he can destroy the world.

 

Will her talents, his ingenuity and a bio-robotic worm named Willie be enough to save us all?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Novation Tech LLC
• Release date: Jan 16, 2023
• ISBN: 9781389483172

Edmond Dougherty

Edmond Dougherty specializes in the creation of proof-of-principle prototypes – he has transformed scores of ideas into practical working systems. He recently retired as a Professor of Practice at Villanova's College of Engineering, and now works through Novation Tech LLC. Awarded over 10 patents, he has applied his degrees in electrical engineering, computer science and engineering management in helping create several technology-based products for consumer, industry and government markets. These developments include systems related to biomedicine, sports, entertainment, robotics, artificial intelligence, simulation, augmented reality, fuzzy logic, supply chain management and automation. As an example, he was part of a team that helped develop the Emmy® and Academy Award® winning Skycam®, an aerial robotic control camera system. He also developed an aerial camera system called Wavecam that is now owned by Skycam.   He is a member of Novation Tech LLC and the founding Director of the Engineering Entrepreneurship program at Villanova University. He was awarded the IEEE Member Award for the Philadelphia area; the Meyer Innovation and Creative Excellence (ICE) Award at Villanova University; the outstanding Faculty Award from the Kern Entrepreneurial Engineering Network (KEEN), and the Villanova University, College of Engineering J. Stanley Morehouse Award for leadership.

Book preview

Playing in Traffic

Spring, about twenty years ago in Washington DC

As far back as he could remember he had a war going on inside his head. His parents realized it when he was two or three and got him professional care. It wasn’t exactly like the cartoons he saw as a kid with an angel on one shoulder and a devil on the other – not quite, he only had the devil whispering to him – constantly. With the help of his doctors, the family found he could stay in control if he kept his mind in one of two states.

At the one extreme, he could fight off the dark thoughts if his mind was totally occupied – puzzles, reading, math; eventually formal logic, philosophy, and computer programming. Despite the academic pursuits, he was never more than a slightly above average student. But the goal was not to be valedictorian, the goal was to keep his brain occupied.

Like anyone else though, if his brain worked intensely for too long, he would lose the fight to fatigue. He did find comfort in sleep, but he couldn’t sleep all the time either, so he was taught meditation, and mindfulness. By relaxing and clearing his head, he could keep his mind at peace.

Jumping between extreme mental activity to mind blanking, he could have a good day. For most of the days during his 17 years, he did just that. But not today.

It was Sunday afternoon. He had his homework completed; his household chores done.  Nothing else he needed to do, nothing pressing at all. He had plenty of sleep the night before. He should have felt calm and in control, but he was getting anxious. He slid in a CD, pulled down the shades in his room, slipped on his headphones and plopped heavily into his beanbag chair. He closed his eyes and listened to the stereo sounds of rain. He consciously opened his hands and unclenched his teeth. Chill he said out loud.

After several long minutes, he sighed deeply. Still feeling nowhere near ‘chill’, he opened his eyes. He noticed both hands were in fists. Damn, this is useless.

He pulled on his running shoes, went down the uncarpeted wooden stairs as quickly and quietly as he could. He felt satisfaction that he didn’t even wake the cat. He peeked intently through the curtain before opening the front door. Looking left, then right, then left again.

He slipped out the door of the red brick row house. He leapt from the top concrete step directly onto the tiny front lawn, hopped over the short row of bushes and landed flatly on the white sidewalk. Nailed the landing, yessss, he hissed as he broke into a run. He was going to run full out until he was exhausted; he was going to run until he couldn’t think. He was going to run ...

Hey, spaz! The shout came from across the street. He turned his head to look, though he knew right away. It was his tormentor, Derek. No, please he muttered to himself. Should he stop running? What would a cool person do? He had no idea; so, he lowered his head in defeat and slowed to a walk, raised his hand in acknowledgement and said, Hey Derek, what’s up? Then, pointing straight ahead Jeremy said I gotta go ....

I’ll show you what’s up jackass Derek shouted, red faced, as he pushed his way between parked cars and headed across the street toward Jeremy.

Jeremy’s eyes opened wide. His brain told him to run, but he froze in place wondering why his hair felt like it was standing straight up. He looked at Derek bounding toward him and wondered what do bullies do when no one is around to pick on? Don’t they ever go to the movies, or listen to rain CDs or...?

Whap!

Derek smacked Jeremy on the side of his head. Stumbling, Jeremy instinctively put his arm up for defense against the much taller, beefier teenager. Wadda’ you want? Leave me alone. I didn’t do anything.

Hey, you know you deserve it punk. You did something. Why were you running? Huh? Derek said while wrapping his arm around Jeremy’s neck in a seemingly playful, but actually painful choke hold.

I don’t. I didn’t. I wasn’t. Quit it. I was just....

Laughing, Derek knew he won. I know, I know. I’m just playing dude. Derek released Jeremy but couldn’t resist pushing him towards a passerby. Jeremy avoided the collision, stumbled and fell on his butt on the sidewalk.

Ha, you klutz. You almost ran into that old lady. See ... you deserved to be smacked, he hooted. Well, my work is done here. You have a nice rest of your day. Derek spotted a group of kids back across the street. Hey spaz! he shouted heading toward them. Laughing, Derek looked back to Jeremy It’s their turn now. I could do this all day.

Watching Derek start to cross, Jeremy had one of his dark thoughts. Wouldn't it be awesome if Derek just ceased to exist? Teen suicides happened all the time. Derek ... hey jackass ... go play in traffic. It’ll be fun, like on the football field. Try to make a tackle. Go ahead, you’ll impress those kids.

Derek stepped from the curb and was headed into the stream of cars barreling up Quincy Street. Then there was a bus. It was so fast. Derek turned and leapt toward it arms extended. One second Derek was there, then next ... not.  At least not anything that looked like Derek.

The bus swerved to a stop. Jeremy, still sitting on the pavement, tried to see what was happening, but the parked cars blocked his view of any details.

Time also seemed to stop.

He knows he heard screams, followed by car horns and eventually the wail of a siren, but by the time he got up from the pavement, it was deep twilight. Jeremy walked slowly towards home. He kept his arm to his face, but he realized he didn't need protection now did he? No. No more Derek. He put his arm down.

A few steps later, the realization came. He was in control. His thoughts were clear. He felt ... good.

Happy Ending

Present Day – early November in Wildwood, New Jersey.

On a boardwalk bench facing the ocean. His legs were up, heels precariously balanced on the painted silver railing. A blanket was tightly wrapped around his shoulders, shielding him from the chilled early morning ocean breeze. He watched the endless waves as they floated in, collapsed and slid onto the white sandy beach. The ocean sounds were mixed with the occasional cry of a gull or whirl of a bicycle gliding behind him. The bright rising sun warmed his face, he was relaxed and calm. He closed his eyes, and as he’d done dozens of times on past mornings, Cole Cheetum tried to read the inside of his eyelids. Sometimes he saw patterns like psychedelic geometric art. Sometimes he worked to recall images from his ancestors on the theory that their past lives were baked somehow into his DNA. Today, though, he was trying to recall details of the recent past. His own. A business meeting. He was trying to recreate the individual frames of that scene to find answers to his personal mystery.

From somewhere under the blanket a cheerful reminder chime rose gaining his attention. Fumbling around, his hand soon emerged holding the phone. Squinting in the bright sun, he adjusted the angle of the phone to better see the reminder. Ah, it is Tuesday, isn’t it? He mumbled as he slowly stretched and yawned. He gathered himself, rose and allowed the blanket to drag behind him as he trudged across the boardwalk. The blanket snagged on a nail. He pulled. The blanket ripped and released itself from the nail. He entered an open storefront whose overhead sign was the hand painted image of an eye and the words Fortunes Told and Handwriting Analysis. He passed a round table upon which sat a large crystal ball. An antique robotic fortune teller could be seen in the corner of the space.

Minutes later he appeared barefoot from below the boardwalk, walking on the empty expanse of sand, headed toward the ocean. Under his arm, he carried what looked like a kitchen trash can. Reaching the water's edge, he walked ankle deep, gathered his resolve; then walked a bit further into the salt water of the green Atlantic until the water was just below his knees. Stopping, he spun and tossed the package into the ocean. It landed just beyond the foamy waves. Hitting with a splash, the object disappeared for a moment below the surface, then appeared, bobbing gently in the water. Without warning it startlingly sprang open like a powerful automatic umbrella, spreading out over the surface creating what looked like a blue-black cross about ten feet in length. Unseen below the surface, a dozen articulated tentacles unfurled.

Cole stood still listening, and in less than a minute, he heard the low whirl of electric motors. The object began to move away from the shore at a slow but steady pace, gliding up and over the ocean swells.

He stood, watched for a few more minutes, then turned and walked back toward the dry sand. He disappeared under the boardwalk, and into one of the expansive, well equipped laboratories in his company, WildTech. The brightly lit space, famously known as Lab 2, was clean, comfortable and equipped with everything Cole needed to keep himself busy. He felt he needed to always have a passion project hold his attention, along with enough interesting work for his 20 or so employees.

Seven a.m., this time his phone reminded him, Time for breakfast. As usual, he was not particularly hungry, but knew he should eat. It took him a minute to walk over to the kitchen area of the company’s space. He unenthusiastically made tea and a piece of dry toast. He grabbed the clicker and flipped on the large wall mounted flat screen TV as he sat down. He wanted to watch something amusing or calming to ease his mind, but out of habit he went right to the news channels. As he clicked from one to the other, he saw an array of reports on traffic accidents; nationwide weather; polarized finger pointing politics; a cat chasing a dog, and a man threatening to jump off the ledge of an office building in Delaware.

A happy ending, the newscasters said brightly as they rolled video of a man climbing into a window high above a crowd. They cut to the on-scene reporter walking beside the man, as he was being led to an ambulance.

What made you come back off the ledge? The reporter asked as the stereotypical men-in-white-coats tried to keep the jumper moving. He stopped abruptly. He kept looking straight ahead and said calmly, tilting his head slightly toward the microphone, I must have had a sudden change of heart. I was determined to jump, but something told me not to. The EMTs gently prodded the jumper along, helping him into the back of the ambulance, leaving the reporter looking on.

As he sipped his tea, Cole grabbed the clicker and played the news segment back, again and again.

I must have had a sudden change of heart ... sudden change ... I must have had a sudden change ... something told me not to ... something ... told me.

Cole noted that the location of the news story was not all that far from him—just across the Delaware Bay in Dover. The ferry could take him there in a few hours. Rapidly finishing the toast, he sent a text to Bella asking her to find the jumper's name and where he'd been taken. She would be at her table in the fortune telling booth in less than an hour. He looked at the clock, calculating how much time he had to dress and get to the ferry.

It was almost 8:30 now, so he had about a half hour to gather himself and another half hour to get himself to the ferry terminal. Perfect, he thought, something interesting to do.

Not feeling rushed, he walked toward what looked like a large child's wading pool filled with sand and gravel. He stopped by a tall pile of different types of rocks. Each of the thirty-pound rocks had a bar code label attached to it. He took a phone photo of one of the rocks and scanned in its bar code. Picking up the rock with a mild groan, he carried it to the edge of the pool of sand and heaved it close to the middle of the sand. It landed with a thud.

Satisfied with the rock’s placement, he took the elevator up the two floors to his condo. As he entered the well-appointed space, he said out loud, No time for the sauna today. His digital assistant confirmed in a pleasant female voice, Today’s sauna is canceled. Next sauna scheduled to be 24 hours from now.

As he walked toward the shower, without breaking stride he tested his coordination by undressing and tossing each article of clothing into a one-foot diameter laundry chute opening in the wall.

He took a quick rinse, dried off, walked into his closet and picked out a pair of black pleated pants, a crisp pinstriped white shirt and a comfortable zip up sweater. He would also wear an overcoat as he knew the ferry ride would be frigid regardless of the time of year. He reminded himself of the old Norwegian saying, ‘There’s no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothing.’

Returning to the lower level of the WildTech complex he took a sandwich sized baggie, poured in a small handful of Jelly Bellies, and slipped it in his pocket. Maybe this is why I'm never hungry, I continuously graze.

Arriving at the dock with minutes to spare, Cole bought his ticket, then drove his Land Rover onto the deck of the ferry and into a parking lane. Stepping out of the car, he climbed the staircase to the upper deck and took a deep breath of the ocean air before heading into the large, heated and brightly lit passenger area. In the summer it would be packed with a hundred or so, but now he was joined by fewer than a dozen fellow passengers. The seating space reminded him of church, several rows of long benches one behind the other, all looking toward the bow of the ship. He picked a row in the middle of the space, stretched and then sat down.

Using his iPad, he read for the entire two-hour trip. Every ten minutes or so he hopped from one document to another with a touch of his finger. He read portions of a novel, moved on to a reference book on a new programming language, and then browsed through an illustrated book on robot design. This rotation continued throughout the trip with occasional visits to a download of a three-month-old digital issue of Wired magazine, and a legal book on intellectual property protection.

When the ferry was about to berth, he checked his phone. Bella had texted him the location of the hospital and some details about the jumper. He was an accountant named Larry David. Cole laughed out loud, thinking, OK I guess all Larry Davids are quirky. He got up, tossed the now empty jellybean bag into the trash can, waited his turn and drove off the ramp onto the dock. It was about 11:30 a.m.

Typical of Cole's luck, he had no trouble gaining permission to visit with Larry the jumper. Cole’s unwanted fame often had its perks. Everyone seemed to want to treat Cole well, though most people knew him as Cheetah, the famous inventor.

The nurse led him into Larry's hospital room, asking for a photo for her husband before she left him. Cole pulled up a chair next to the bed as Larry watched his every move.

You’re somebody, right? Do I know you? I do! Don't I? said Larry with a slight drug induced slur.

Maybe ... I get around. I'm Cole Cheetum. Larry ... how are you doing? You look good.

Yes, that’s right, that’s who you are. You’re Cheetah. The Smiling Cheetah. Wow. Nice to meet you. Um, how am I doing? Well, I'm embarrassed; I still have my personal problems; and I'm in a mental hospital, but actually ... all in all, as strange as it seems, I'm not so bad. Not anymore. I’m pretty good, Larry said with a confused smile.

I’m glad, but what happened yesterday? I guess I’m asking why you didn’t jump. I mean, not that you should have.

I don’t really know, to be honest. One minute I was out on that ledge, head pounding, hating my life, determined to end it, and then ... I was happily climbing into an ambulance. I'm totally blank on what happened in between. But I feel so much better. Larry took a long drink of water.

On the news, Larry, when you were being taken to the ambulance, you told the reporter you had a change of heart.

I do feel a lot different. Like I said, a lot better. A new outlook, but I don’t remember saying anything to a reporter ... I don’t even remember a reporter. I must have blacked out. Can you do that ... keep on moving, and do things, but blacked out? From what they tell me it’s almost like I was sleepwalking. He laughed. I'm surprised I didn’t accidentally fall off the ledge. I'm not sure how I made it back inside.

Cole looked at Larry and said softly, I think I know the feeling. He smiled, nodded and said, I'm glad you're feeling better. If I can help in some way, please let me know. They shook hands, Cole left his card and headed out to visit Larry’s company, as it was just a few blocks away.

Free Coffee

For Jenna the day after the guy-on-the-ledge dawned bright and crisp. October slid into November on the sly. Jenna parked her Jeep in the spacious company parking lot, far from the entrance so she could get some extra steps in before being held prisoner on her desk chair all morning. The fallen leaves crunched under her feet, reminding her of childhood leaf piles and new school years.

She liked to arrive early before anyone else on her floor came in. She enjoyed the morning quiet and the calm. She liked to organize her day, her space, her desktop, her files. She needed to be in control. She powered up her workstation, put her lunch away, and settled in to read the morning emails. Nothing pressing, just the typical requests for information that could have easily been found on the corporate web site. Honestly, she felt like she was living in the movie Office Space sometimes. So much of her day involved busy work, submitting redundant reports she knew would never be read, feeding the bureaucracy monster. She disliked her job, found it dull, but knew it was just what she needed.

The quiet lasted about twenty minutes today; not as long as usual, but that was somewhat to be expected after yesterday's incident. As her coworkers trickled in and the noise level rose, Jenna steeled herself for the inevitable dramatic reactions and discussions about the guy on the ledge. Her heart raced. She closed her eyes for a moment and told herself to relax.

She'd been practicing what to say since she woke up. She really didn't even know what had happened, exactly. Just before five yesterday, a guy in accounting had lost it, stepped out onto the seventh-floor window ledge, and threatened to jump. What was it she remembered from her psych 101 class? That it wasn't a real suicide attempt, but a cry for help? With so many people around, the jumper could surely expect he’d be saved by someone. Maybe he wanted the attention, the notoriety. Jenna thought there was clearly something ‘wrong’ with him if those were the lengths he would go to just to get attention. But suicidal? No. Probably no.

That's the same as she was thinking yesterday when they all rushed over to the windows. Jim, the Don Draper[1] of the group, noticed the jumper first and, counter-productively, yelled for everyone to stay calm. The jumper was standing on the five-inch wide ledge, his back pressed to the tan brick wall behind him. Despite the office crowd, she had a clear view of him from her desk. He stopped right in between - too far from either window to be unwillingly grabbed and rescued. She picked up the phone and called security while a few intrepid coworkers, led by Jim, tried to talk the jumper down using their best armchair psychologist voices to soothe and cajole him inside. Jenna knew that confused people became even more confused if multiple people were talking at them at once. She kept her mouth shut. Even though she had her MS in Psychology, she didn’t feel qualified to help. She certainly didn’t want to compete with Jim who clearly was trying to take charge. She didn't consider herself a hero type anyway. Instead, she felt it was best to be silent while mentally offering furious wishes that the jumper would come to his senses, edge along the ledge and climb back in the window.

The jumper was red faced, shaking, and intensely sobbing. How can he not fall? Jenna thought, it was like watching a death-defying silent movie comedy routine. Harold Lloyd[2], she thought, somebody grab him by the suspenders. She didn’t mean to, but she giggled out loud. She wanted this situation to go away, and she strongly preferred the happy ending over the proverbial easy way out. Please stop. Please, it will be OK. She was shouting inside her head. Please stop.

Jenna realized that she has seen the jumper before, often in fact, maybe every workday. An accounting manager. She didn't even know his name. Just then, he stiffened and began looking around – up, down, left, right. What was he looking for? Jim took that as encouragement and renewed his calm, measured babble directed at the jumper. Flat against the wall, the jumper tried to turn his head to look inside the office. When that didn’t work, he somehow did a perfectly executed pirouette on the ledge as the group let out a collective Ohhhh. He now faced toward the building. Scraping his nose against the rough bricks, he slowly inched along until he could see through the window and into the office. He looked intently in turn at each person inside. Was he silently saying his goodbyes to his coworkers? This change in attitude doesn’t bode well, it might mean he found a new resolve ... to jump. Jenna's pleading thoughts took on a more urgent intensity. Dude just step inside please. Come on. It’s easy now. So much more comfortable in here. Hurry up and come inside it’s comfortable. She mentally repeated over and over. Inside. Now!

Mr. Jumper’s scan of the office occupants fell on her. She felt a tingle as their eyes locked – not at all in a pleasant romantic comedy kind of way. She was terrified, but her eyes locked on his like strong magnets. Though she felt paralyzed, she was still thinking It would be so simple to step inside. Come on. It’s comfortable here. Please.

Startling everyone, the jumper shouted I’m sorry emotionally at the top of his lungs. The group at the window gasped and some recoiled. Jim seemed on the verge of panic. As he reached desperately for the jumper’s leg, he nearly lost his own balance.

Suddenly the jumper’s demeanor morphed from lunatic-on-a-ledge to executive-in-charge.  He barked back off and clear the window. The group instinctively retreated, and, without any sign of fear, the jumper deftly propelled himself through the window like Spiderman slinging from a web. The office crowd rebounded back to swarm him. Most of them raised their arms in triumph. Some cried. Some cheered. Jim immediately hugged him and began to jabber Larry, you did the right thing. Jim expected a return hug or at least a fist bump but jumper Larry politely pushed by him. Give him some air Jim said, because he had heard that in the movies so often and figured it fit the situation. The group cautiously separated. Larry slowly walked by everyone and moved to Jenna’s cubicle. She stood, looked behind her thinking about fleeing.

Larry had tears in his eyes, but a smile on his face. Thank you, he said simply. He reached for her hand and shook it. He looked at her for a moment, turned and walked toward a group of paramedics who arrived right on cue.

Bewildered, Jenna didn't even open her mouth. The EMS crew sat Larry on a desk and started fussing. One checked his vitals while the other began asking him pointed questions. Jenna sat back down and tried to fade away. The last thing she wanted was for anyone to ask about their odd exchange. Her coworkers now in small clusters stayed respectfully away from the medics but were buzzing loudly about the events. Jenna peeked at her watch, quietly packed up her things and left for the day She walked down the emergency stairwell holding tightly to the