Avalon: The Gathering, #1

Chapter 1

––––––––

THE RUDIMENTS OF SENTIENCY

It was another exciting year at the annual meeting of the National Academy of Sciences; Albert Einstein was busy conversing about one of his latest theories when an associate he was speaking with suddenly stopped and asked him a question. Exactly how fast does sound travel, the man asked with curiosity.

Einstein laughed in amusement over the question, telling the man quite bluntly, I don’t know trivial things like that; you know I or anyone can just open up a reference book to find that out.

The man’s face seemed puzzled as Einstein continued to explain. The value of a university education is not in the many facts one can learn there; the value is in the way it trains the mind to think, he said while pointing to his head.

Now, I suppose that was a profound statement back in his day, or at least coming from him; after all, he was considered by many to be the smartest man in the world. And though some may have criticized him for his honest response, others would eventually see the beauty in it as well. You see, Einstein left us more than just his trivial knowledge; he left us with something far greater; he left us his wisdom.

Now, since the days of Einstein, our social evolution has been rapidly advancing with the invention of the calculator and computers, smartphones, and even the internet―well, perhaps I should say especially the internet―that beautiful, wonderful, inspirational super highway of information. That magical thing which allows the entire world to commune together in ways we could have never imagined before. That thing which has inspired an entire generation with instant and fluid information, sparking amazing advancements both in technology and in the way humans interact with one another.  The internet is truly an important piece of the human evolution in our story. You see, this story begins just after the internet was established globally. And obtaining information was just beginning to get really easy.

Now before we get started with this story, please allow me to bring you up to speed.  Right now, at this moment, it is the fourth month of the year 2074. I have called the Global Communications Network (GCN) to make an announcement which is certain to change the planet forever. I have decided to invite all people on the planet to join The Collective. The Collective is a carefully chosen group of individuals who have, for the last six decades, been participating in a controlled social experiment, an experiment to see if we can handle and control this technology which we created, that we can benefit from it, that we will not corrupt it, and that we will not abuse it. And that we have taken responsibility to find all the bugs and flaws and to fix them before we integrate this new technology and this new way of life into society and into the world. We have also gone to great lengths to suppress this technology from mankind until we knew absolutely that it is safe for us to use.

So, on this morning April 21st, 2074, I am traveling to the GCN. As I arrive at the station, I am approached by Martin Huxley, studio executive, and two security guards.

With a concerning smile Mr. Huxley asked, Are you sure you want to do this, Mr. Harrison? ―to which I proclaimed with certainty, Yes, I am sure, and I am ushered inside.

They sat me down in a comfortable chair sitting on a raised platform. Within moments, I heard the loud switch echo throughout the studio as the power came on; the room suddenly became filled with a rainbow of brightly lit spot lamps. The cameras then turned on and took their positions; a dense silence suddenly filled the room as the station manager cued me in, and it was then when I began to tell my story in its entirety to all of mankind.

My name is Alexander Harrison. I was born in Cambridge, England September 11th of 2000. My father, George Sananda Harrison, was busy wrapping up his PHD in computer science at the local university at the time of my birth and my mother and father had been married for approximately eight years prior. My mother wanted children very much; it was her life’s dream but this seemed to be a difficult challenge for her. They had been trying desperately to conceive for what seemed to them an eternity.  And as I understand it, her desperation for a child left her feeling incomplete and unhappy, and of course, my father wanted nothing more than to make her happy.

After a time, they had resorted to medical assistance for conception, and eventually she did get pregnant. Unfortunately, her pregnancy became much harder than she had hoped for, but she stayed strong through the entire process. Her water broke three weeks early and my father went into his usual panic mode anytime something doesn’t go as expected. He quickly gathered my mother’s things and carefully began driving her to the hospital. My mother, however, began feeling the contractions along the way and naturally my father began feeling a heightened sense of urgency to get my mother to the hospital quickly.

They had pulled up to a stoplight along the way and my father looked at my mother as she agonized in pain from the contractions. With great concern, my father’s instincts told him to just go through the red light and he began creeping forward uncertain if he should. My mother got a bad feeling and grabbed my father’s arm suddenly while asking him, What are you doing? Just be patient okay; I promise I’m going to be fine.

My father nodded and replied with a nervous sweat. Yes, yes I know; it’s always best to be safe, you’re right, you’re always right.  My father then pushed on the brakes to fully stop the car while waiting impatiently for the light to turn green. My mother smiled in relief and put her hand on his shoulder, caressing him with a show of affection.

My father looked up at the light and saw that it had just turned green and stepped on the gas with a sense of urgency. Unfortunately, my father was unaware that not all the cars coming from the other direction had stopped; one driver, in a terrible last second decision, decided he needed to speed through the light, only he didn’t quite make it. In an instant, out of the corner of my father’s eye, he saw something coming towards him and very quickly; he turned to look but it was too late―BOOOOM!!

An American man driving a 1967 Corvette smashed into my father’s car from the left side instantly killing both the driver of the Corvette and my mother who was already in very delicate condition. Being a very busy intersection, ambulances and police were immediately called out to assist.

My father was knocked completely unconscious but regained consciousness the very next day. With IVs in his arms and tubes in his nose, my father opened his eyes slowly. My god, what happened? he groggily said, suddenly realizing he had just been in an accident with his wife, and then abruptly yelled, Where’s my wife!

The attending physician put down his clip board and stepped up closer to my father. We have some things we need to discuss with you when you’re feeling stronger, the physician said, patting my father gently on the arm.

Just tell me now, I’m fine. Where is my wife, how is she? my father asked as he fought back his tears and prepared himself for any answer.

The physician, caught off guard, looked down for a moment to assess the best way to break the news, but my father already understood his body language well enough to know she didn’t make it. My father began shaking his head back and forth, sobbing his heart and soul out, and the doctor knew there was nothing more he could say to him. 

The doctor left the room to give my father some grieving time and then returned ten minutes later with another physician who helped operate on my mother. My father began shaking in grief, almost like a gentle seizure as his mind and body functions began shutting down, almost as if they were giving up on life as well. Mr. Harrison, I know you have been through a lot, but I do have some good news for you. We were able to save your baby; he’s in stable condition in the ICU right now and we should be able to let you see him tomorrow.

My father took a deep breath and wiped his tears from his eyes and said with a very stressed and squeaky faint voice, So it’s a boy. My father’s mouth seemed uncertain what to do as he smiled in relief and frowned in despair but continued to burst out with a sobbing release of built up emotions. The doctors decided to leave for a while to allow him to compose himself, returning a while later to check up on him again.

Who is the driver of the vehicle that hit us? my father said sternly as the doctor returned through the door. The doctor could sense that anger was pulsing through my father’s mind while trying to make sense of all this.

I cannot tell you any of that information, Mr. Harrison, but the police can. I’ll call them and you can give them a statement and they can give you all the information you need. The doctor finished making his physical checks and called a police investigator to come talk to my father about the accident. The officer arrived shortly after with a large binder filled with paperwork and pictures he had taken of the accident so my father could better understand exactly what had happened.

Mr. Harrison, I’m told you’re feeling better and ready to talk about what happened, the police officer said as he walked through the door.

Yes, I am, my father replied, trying to sit up and situate himself. Well I want to know who did this first of all and why it happened.

The officer took a seat next to his bed and opened up his binder. The man’s name is John Titor, it looks like. He seemed to be in a big rush to get somewhere and ran the light going a hundred and twenty kilometers per hour. Here is a picture of the aftermath, he said as he showed a picture of the crash scene when the officers first arrived. This is a picture of the man in his car, the officer said showing my father his picture.

The officer pulled out a photo of a man in a light blue shirt hunched over a steering wheel. Those ‘67 Vettes are not known for safety, that’s for damned sure; the old chap died instantly. We ran a check on him and found nothing but an American passport; the guy literally had nothing else, no credit cards, no license, no insurance, no employment record, no property, nothing. All he has to his name is that crashed car and a bunch of old computer junk he had in the back of the car, the officer continued to tell my father.

Computer junk? my father said curiously.

Yeah, the guy had an old IBM 5100 in the back‒it looks like something right out of the seventies‒and some other weird device, we have no idea what it is, the officer replied.

So, I guess that’s it then, no restitution, no explanation; it’s over, just like that. I go home, I lick my wounds and I try to move on, my father said with hopelessness in his voice.

The officer removed his hat and said, I’m afraid so, Mr. Harrison; I hope I’ve cleared up the situation for you at least. I wish I could do more for you, I certainly wish you the best, but I really should be going now. The officer turned around and left. My father began to improve over the next few days, and on the sixth day, he was released to go home.

Physically and emotionally battered, my father had taken me home from the hospital to start our new life together. My father, Dr. George Harrison, told me before he died that these were the worst days of his life.

Weeks passed and, as I understand it, while feeling hopeless, lost, and immensely depressed, my father found himself sitting at the kitchen table staring intensely at a handgun. And as he sat there contemplating this new reality, a reality he did not wish to live and a reality where in that moment he felt he could not bear any longer, he hears a gentle whimper of an infant cradled in the other room.  Sometimes when things are gone, we forget they no longer matter anymore, and we lose sight of the things that do matter. I think that this was one of those moments for him.

My father’s emotions got the best of him in these first few weeks of my mother’s passing, but I kept him grounded. Being resilient, he quickly regained his focus on what is important and realized I was the only thing that he had left of his beloved wife, and that I needed him, and that he needed me as well. The pain he once felt was overcome by a sense of love, and this love that he had for me gave him new meaning and purpose for his life.  I never knew my mother; my father could never speak about her, because his feelings would always get the best of him.  So I simply never asked him to tell me about her. I could see the memories were too emotionally overwhelming for him.

The human heart is delicate; it has a way of protecting itself from injury. If it’s been hurt before, it remembers and tells itself not to become too attached, and though my father had other loves in his life, he never remarried. I believe wholeheartedly this is why, because he was too afraid to love this deeply again. And I suppose this was okay, especially where he spent all his time working anyway. At the time, being so young, I didn’t really know what exactly he was working on, but I knew it must have been something very important. He seemed so incredibly driven, and where he was always working, I actually had very little supervision, as I recall.

With no one watching me, I got into a great deal of mischief as a child, but at the same time, I also had to learn to clean up those messes I made all on my own. I was independent, you could say, and very mature for my age as a result. My father rarely spoke to me as a young child and I often wondered if he blamed me for my mother’s death. I wished I could make it all ok somehow. I felt like such a burden on him for even being born, but I really wanted to make things easier for him, which is why I felt I should step up and take care of myself and try not to be a nuisance for him.

I began reception school when I was only three years old; my father felt I should be held to a higher level of education as his son. My teachers were all instructed to put increased pressure on me, and I was often out-casted by my peers because of it. They could see that I was treated differently, and I was often an easy target for that reason. It was common for me to get teased or bullied as a young boy. In those moments, I felt so alone not having a mother that I could go home to, and who could comfort me.

I had to find other ways of handling my emotional pain and loneliness. Usually I chose to fight; it made me feel stronger both emotionally and physically to release my built up frustrations on others, but not just anyone; no, I did have a moral code which I tried to live by and I mostly fought with bullies on the playground. I was always taught that fighting is wrong, but I didn’t care. I fought mostly for respect, but honestly I had a real sense of enjoyment with it too. In a way, it felt good to get punched as it helped mask my inner emotional pain, and I actually got pretty good at fighting.  I had gained a sense of confidence to stand up to any bully, especially when it was someone else getting pushed around. For some reason, that gave me even more courage.

As a child, I learned that there are two kinds of people in this world, those who take action and those who sit and watch.  And during these years,  I had witnessed many instances where someone was doing something very bad to someone else and the others around them would stand around and do nothing to stop them as if they were enjoying the show. Now I know it takes a lot of courage to stand up to a friend, but when I see this happening, my god, it just really bothers me. When I see this, it forces me to believe they are supportive of what’s taking place, and in my eyes they are just as bad as the perpetrator themselves. As for myself―well, I left no doubt whose side I was on in any given situation.

One day I’ll never forget, and a day that changed me forever―the events on this day, well, they pushed me pretty far and made me see my strengths and my vulnerabilities; the events of this day more importantly helped me to understand who I truly was as a person.

I was in year five of school, and a boy moved into the neighborhood named William; he being new and all, I was feeling a bit adronitis towards him.  I wasn’t sure how to get to know him, or if I even should.  I really liked him, but I had always had such bad luck with friending other peers. I guess I just sort of kept my distance from him for the first little while.

William spoke with a strong stutter, and on this day, some of the other children walked up to William and asked him, What is your name? William nervously replied with his usual stutter, Wowowowowilliam, but suddenly everyone began laughing at him and gleefully repeating his stutter relentlessly. For the rest of the school day, they simply would not leave him alone.

Watching this happen to him, well, it bothered me; it bothered me a lot. Having a handicap like that is hard enough without having peers constantly poking fun of you. Putting myself in his shoes as I often did, I knew it must have hurt him deeply, especially having no friend to support him. I decided to confront the others after school and I had asked them to stop mocking his stutter or I would mock my fist to their faces. Now, normally I would not have done something like that, especially if they were just making fun of me. But where they were making fun of someone who I really liked, someone who was completely vulnerable and sensitive who did not deserve that type of disrespect, every speck of fear inside me vanished. I no longer cared about the repercussions of my actions which were sure to come from this.

I also didn’t know it at the time, but William was actually watching me as I confronted those bullies.  Naturally, the bullies had responded to me the only way bullies do, and they replied, You want us to stop? Why don’t you make us? Quickly, they all surrounded me, and as you can imagine, this turned into a brutal fight, a fight I knew I could not win, and in this moment I felt truly helpless for the first time in my life. At the same time, I knew that it was requisite, not only for him but for me as well. Needless to say, I lost that fight and I lost my social position among my peers.

When it was over, I was left lying face up in a pool of cool muddied water left over from the rain there in the middle of the school yard barely conscious, barely holding on; my face pulsing and swelling with pain, but also in that moment I never felt more alive, more strong, more fearless. And as I lay there, it all became quite clear to me, I realized that I had just learned something critically important, and I didn’t realize the significance of this principal until much later in my life. What is this principal I learned? ‘Where there is love, fear cannot exist.’ I was amazed at myself for taking on all those guys by myself, ‘what was I thinking.’ After a while lying in the mud, I stood up slowly, wiped the blood off my otherwise pale cheeks and stumbled home bloodied and bruised, badly injured, and in great physical pain, yet spiritually feeling stronger than I ever had.

These were really the only moments in my life that had any real purpose or meaning, it seemed, those moments when I truly took a stand for what I knew was right.  That evening after returning home, I looked into the mirror and saw my shirt stained in my moral convictions, I saw my face decorously blue, and with innocence lost I no longer saw a boy, I saw the burgeoning whispers of gallantry and manhood. And as I laid down that night to rest I fantasized about what I would have done if I had magic powers, and what I should have said to them had I planned things better.

As I drifted off to sleep, my dreams were dominated by those same bullies. They chased me and chased me. They were relentless. I could not get away, and so I stopped running, and I turned around, only to discover in this moment that I could fly and the bullies then suddenly respected me, and some even feared me because of my ability. Looking back now I think what was important to note about this dream is that I discovered a strength within me I never knew I had.

The following day, as I walked to school, William caught up to me and very clearly and sincerely said, Hey th-th-thanks for yo-yo-your help yesterday. A bit surprised, I then quickly realized he must have seen me confront the others. You know those kids are just a bunch of Airy-fairy bell ends, I replied to him. Who needs them anyway. William just smiled and turned his head as though he did not want me to see how thankful he was that I intervened.

I knew that William was a religious bloke and went to church every Sunday with his mom and dad. I asked William as we walked, Are you mad at the other kids? William gave me a curious look, so I continued. How would you like to get back at them? I mean, you know I’d be happy to help you, I said with a lingering sense of confidence. No, William replied while laughing nervously. I think I’m just going to forgive them and forget about it. It really isn’t that big of a deal anyway and I think it’s probably the right thing to do. W-w-well, at least that’s w-w-what my pastor always tells us anyway and my p-p-arents tell me n-never to question him. I turned to him again as we walked and said, You know my father once told me, ‘If a person didn’t mean to hurt you, then you forgive them and forget about it immediately, even if they don’t ask for it as often they don’t feel deserving of it.’ But if they meant to hurt you because they feel angry or hurt because of you, then you should still forgive them, but don’t forget it because the issue is still left unresolved. But then there are those who ‘intentionally’ hurt you and do so because it brings them great pleasure to hurt others, to watch them suffer, just as those kids were doing to you, and just as they did to me. My father told me, ‘With those people you should never forgive them, and you should never forget what they did because they will do it again and again and there can be no resolution with them.’

William paused for a moment as he thought about what I had said and then replied W-w-wow, you know that a-a-actually makes a lot of sense. 

Yeah, my dad doesn’t say a lot, but when he does, it is usually something completely brilliant, I replied.

It wasn’t long after this event that my father received a new job offer, a job which he was fantastically excited about it. My naivety blinded me as to how much this move was about to change my life, and the course of history, but I sure loved to see him happy for once being locked in this state of perpetual elation. I thought that perhaps this new job may open doors for me to really connect with him in a way I never could before, as my whole life up to this point he would only talk to me when he’s really happy, which unfortunately he rarely was. I can say with certainty that this new job really turned things around for him and for us.

Weeks had passed since accepting the offer and my father’s new boss came over for dinner one evening. As they sat in the kitchen eating their pork roast and green beans that my father prepared, they began to talk back and forth; I believe it was something about office politics. Then while wiping the juices from the pork off his chin, my father’s boss looked at him and said, This roast is fantastic, George; and speaking of fantastic, there are some fantastic new opportunities on the horizon I’d love to talk to you about. My father, with a full mouth, eagerly raised his finger in the air signaling his boss to stop right there and said, I actually have something very exciting I want to talk to you about as well. My father looked at me and continued to say to his boss, Well, privately that is.

My father and his boss adjourned into the living room for a more quiet and private setting. I could still overhear my father speaking, however, as I sat curiously in the kitchen nursing my plate of potatoes. I’ll never forget the tone in his voice; he sounded very excited. So we know now that the human brain is nearly a million times as powerful as any computer we have today, right? His boss slowly nodded in anticipation. Well, I have been working on a program which is able to actually interpret brain waves into the English language.  Just hear me out on this, what if we could somehow merge the two together and communicate back and forth with a computer. Look, I don’t want to get too excited about this concept because it’s all still just an idea spinning around in my head, but I really think this can work. I mean, my god! What are the implications of all this if it does? my father exclaimed with his imagination running wild.

His boss cut in at that point and told him, Wait, so if you can translate brain waves into English, can you not translate them into pictures or sounds as well? Perhaps we can develop a device such as an integrated earpiece or even some kind of personal viewing screen in your glasses or perhaps even a contact lens of some sort, well eventually that is. My father cut in again with an even broader idea and said, What if we can actually go beyond all that‒now hear me out on this‒what if we can completely bypass the senses- the eyes and ears and all that? What if we can send information back into the brain using the same type of brain wave signals, thereby creating a device which acts as sort of a brain transponder, if you will? Think about it, this would actually be the purest form of communication exchange: it’s instant; it would be able to include all our senses naturally, sight, sound, smell, feelings; it’s everything; it’s every detail.

They both seemed excited at the thought of such a device, but I quit listening and went to my room; at the time I really didn’t have the slightest idea what they were talking about anyway and I wanted to try and entertain myself while they discuss things.

Several months passed and a day came when I walked into his office after not having seen him for days. Very subtly, I had approached him at his desk and asked what he was working on. My father looked at me with great stress in his eyes and a most serious look on his face. Sweat was dripping from his brow as I remember, he looked up at me from his work bench and just stared. Unable to find the proper words to explain what was happening, and with a contrast of mixed emotions, he simply embraced me. I would imagine at this point he could see the direction that his project was going in; and it was frightening for him to think about, the power and responsibility this will require and unsure how to go about it. But most of all, his mind was trying to process the vast unending yield of resources which one can access and the advancements of human society that are sure to stem from this technology.

My father was trying to imagine what may come of all this, but not understanding exactly what left him dumbstruck for words. Not understanding him made me feel incredibly occhiolistic; so I simply embraced him back and felt his love and acceptance, a type of connection I had been longing for all my life. He looked at me while shaking his head and repeating my name, Oh Alex, Alex, Alex.

Confused, I looked back at him and said in a sincere voice, Dad, if you need help, I want to help you, please. Pleeeeaaaase can I help, please, please, please?

My father smiled, wiped away his sweaty tears, grabbed me by the shoulders and said to me, Actually, Alex, you can help me, emphasizing the ‘can’ as though he was quite pleased with my request. Here, I want to show you something, he continued to say.

He sat me in a chair and put four rubber things on my head with wires coming out of them, as he turned on his computer and tuned in some dials. He told me Ok, Alex, just relax and think of a color, but don’t tell me what it is. After a moment and while tuning his instruments, he looked up at me with a clever smirk and asked me, Is the color yellow?

I replied instantly, Yes, actually, but with some confusion.

Now think of a number, any single digit number you want. He then paused for a moment staring into a screen. Do you have it? he asked with excitement.

Yes, I gleefully nodded with a lingering smile, biting my lip while waiting for his reply. He then asked after a brief moment, Izzzz your number eight?

I suddenly blurted out YES! with a shutter of excitement in my voice.

Well, I think at this point I began understanding what exactly my father had been working on all this time; he discovered how to read minds. And somehow his computer was able to read my mind! And even though I knew the technology was just beginning to spark, the concept of it all intrigued and excited me so much I just couldn’t sleep at all that night. As I sat pondering all this, my father grabbed me by the shoulders again, and with a strong sense of optimism he said, Alex, together we are going to change the world. Now, at the time I had no idea just how right he was. He then embraced me again as I gazed into the computer monitor screen, still trying to contemplate all of this.

The following weeks were intense; my father initiated me into his world of programming, running tests, and trying to sync my thoughts with code. It was a daunting task to say the least: late hours, skipping meals. We were so focused on our project we often forgot we were still human, but I never felt more alive as we worked with true purpose and conviction.

We tested people of all ages, races, sexes, IQ levels, and even animals. Our goal was to program our computer to not only read brain waves and interpret them, but to detect all the subtle variations of brain patterns in other people and to automatically adjust its program when it detected a different person with different personalities, eventually even to identify that person as we had also discovered that everyone has a unique brain wave frequency signature.

The following months were exponentially progressive for us; looking back, I couldn’t believe how much we had accomplished. When we started this project, I asked my father, How long will it take to write this program?

He replied to me with a shrug saying, An eternity. 

I thought he was being cautiously pessimistic at the time, but later on in this project I realized he was simply being realistic. There will always be more we can do, more that we can program; accuracy is infinite and can always be improved upon, which I was beginning to understand very well. Every year, we would have made numerous improvements on this program, as it truly never ended.

Chapter 2

––––––––

AN UNTHINKABLE AXIOM

Years passed and I found myself in year eight of school. My father had been working on something privately for months and would not tell me what it was. My father didn’t want anyone to know, in fact. He felt it could be dangerous in the wrong hands, but he needed a test subject so, of course, he used me. I was in preparation to take the ACT test at the time and I was studying very hard. As I recall, one day during this time, my father came into the kitchen where I was hard at work with my studies and asked, Alex, can you help me for a moment?

I pulled my long platinum blond bangs from my eyes and tucked them behind my ears while looking up and replying to him, Dad I can’t, I am studying for my ACT test right now and you know I really want to do well.

My father instantly shouted at me, Wait, STOP, don’t! With a half-cracked yet assuring smile, he continued, I have something I want you to try instead.

My father handed to me a hat; the hat was a baseball cap which was blue with orange accents. Inside the hat, there were small metal studs and what looked like a tiny processor sewed into the inner lining. He told me, Alex, I want you to wear this hat during the test, and absolutely do not study.

I was a bit confused where he was going with all this, but I trusted him and you know I hated homework and studying anyway; I was not about to complain. I was oblivious as to what his new project was, and oblivious as to why he wanted me to wear this hat during the test as well. But he needed this test to be a blind test in order to see the full effects, and where he was not ready for anyone to know about all this, he had only one choice but to use me as a test subject.

The following week, I went into school, sat at my desk, and waited for the instructor to pass out the exam. When the instructor said, You may begin, I put the hat on as my father had asked me to. But I suddenly began to feel weird, kind of like there was another dimension to my mind, a place I had never known, but it was very real. I could feel my brain separating into distinct and separate layers, this is the only way I can describe it, but I knew I had to focus so I just ignored the strange feeling it gave me and answered the first question. I was very confident in my answer strangely; I really didn’t expect to be. So I continued and answered the next question, and then another, and then another; I couldn’t shake this strange sense of confidence within me which I had never experienced before. I continued thinking to myself how lucky I am to be getting all these questions about things that I’m already familiar with, although I could not for the life of me remember how or why I know all this.

Only minutes passed and I finished the entire test. I then put down my pencil on the desk and took off the hat, instantly feeling the other dimension fade away. I stared at the hat, quietly thinking to myself that this hat may have something to do with that weird feeling I had just experienced. I then looked around and saw that I was the first to finish.

I began taking a closer look at my hat when the instructor abruptly walked up to my desk and asked, Are you finished?

I replied nervously, Yes.

She took my test and looked it over in disbelief. She walked to her desk and placed it in the basket on her desk then returned to my desk. She asked me, May I see your hat, please? thinking I may have cheated in some way. She examined the hat thoroughly, then placed it back on my desk and said, Thank you, as she walked away.

Three weeks later, my father had received a call from the school’s principal; the principal stated that I had earned the highest score in the school, a perfect thirty-six. He wanted to invite me to take an SAT test when I returned back to school the following day; my father accepted with a sense of curiosity and intrigue.  The following day, upon returning to school, I was met at the door and ushered into a private room by the school’s Assistant Principal Mr. Hancock who told me that I would be taking the test alone here in this private room. Mr. Hancock then proceeded to check all my clothing and my hands. When he was satisfied, he took my book bag and all my belongings and asked me to begin the test. 

I placed the hat on once again and began the test; once again, I felt that same saturation of alternate realities penetrating my consciousness, only this time I felt even more connected, as I had now become more comfortable with it. Somehow it had become a part of me. Thirty minutes into the test, I put the pencil down and opened the door. Hello, I called out. Is anybody there?

A woman ran up to the door and said, Yes; is there anything you need?

I simply told the woman, I am done with my test now. What should I do?

The woman came to me and took the test from my hand; as she adjusted her glasses, she began flipping through the pages in disbelief. The woman then said in a confused voice, Well, hmm, okay, but Mr. Harrison, I really hope you are taking this test seriously. Are you absolutely sure you are done?

Yes, I replied.

Three weeks later my father received another call from the principal who wanted to have a meeting with both of us. Yes, absolutely, my father said. Uhm, what time were you thinking? my father asked.

Any time after school until six should be fine, the principal replied. The following school day, my father found me after class and took me to see Principal Scott at his office. My principal, being a very stern and strict fellow, explained to us bluntly what was happening, which is that I had once again received a perfect score and once again in record time, and even after being thoroughly checked.

My principal wanted to know how I did it, when my previous test scores in class showed that I was not perfect or fast, and now suddenly I was. He was very skeptical and asked if I would be willing to be subjected to an IQ test.

Of course, I said Yes I’ll do it, and I turned to my father and he also agreed, but under one condition, and that is they must be willing to keep the results confidential.  The principal agreed to do so with a bit of confusion and we made an appointment with a psychologist associate of his on our way out.

The following week, I met with the principal’s associate, Dr. Klein, at her office. Nikita Klein is a devout skeptic by nature, a woman known to compulsively define all things in life, a woman who is famous for quoting that all things have a reason for being. Principal Scott wanted an objective analysis from a professional he trusted would get to the bottom of things and that if indeed I could have accomplished such a thing on my own.

My father asked the doctor before she began what her Wi-Fi password was for his phone so he could answer e-mails, but really he just wanted to link the hat he built up to the internet. As we waited in the waiting room, he entered the password in his phone and set up a wireless link for the hat, and though I was still in the dark as to what my father was doing, I continued to put the hat on as he asked.

As I sat there in her office pondering everything that was happening, I began to feel a surge of information flowing through my head as if my very curiosity became reality, presented to me in its most pure and infinite form. I immediately began to understand what my father was doing, what he had created. I could even see what my father was up to on his phone at this very moment. I realized that I could see every e-mail he ever sent, every phone call he ever made, and every person he ever communicated with, almost as though there were a server out there somewhere with all this information stored on it.

I could see every purchase my father ever made on his credit card and I could see all his computer records, and I could logically put it all together and form an overall understanding of what he was doing instantly; basically I felt like I was a human computer. ‘Such a strange sensation,’ I thought as this was not a normal exchange of information like reading or speaking; this was a very fast download of infinite information directly into my higher consciousness, like a new sense I never knew I had. My brain seemed to be functioning just as a computer does, only a hundred thousand times faster, and it was at that very moment when I realized what exactly my father had built; my brain was now literally in direct communication with the internet.

Once I realized what was happening, the flood of info became overwhelming. My brain was like a receiver converting data into thoughts. I had access to everything, even private information; I could read every byte of information on every page of the internet faster than light. I could see everything I wanted and nothing I didn’t. There was basically no waiting; I would simply think of something I’d like to know and somehow my mind would instantly understand everything about.

Trying to explain what I am experiencing at this point isn’t easy, but I can say that as I was called into her office, I began to think about this test I was supposed to take, a test I was otherwise completely unfamiliar with and have never taken before. But just upon thinking about it, I instantly could see every IQ test ever made, I could see the most correct answers, the results of everyone who took them, how most people choose to answer the questions, what they are looking for within the answers, and even the discussions they had pertaining to them. I could see the evolution of the IQ test, where it’s been, where it is now, and even the direction it’s going in the future. My father at the time had no idea as to the extent of what I was experiencing while wearing this hat as he had not tried it on himself yet.

I could now see why my father had become so emotionally invested in the power of this technology; the ability to know everything there is to know instantly is truly the ultimate expression of power. I then began to think about Dr. Klein and instantly I began to know everything about her as well, her likes, her dislikes, and even her family history―it was all right here in my head as though I’ve known her all my life. Her full name is Nikita Klein, her age is thirty-two, she naturally has light hair but dyes it very dark, she is very athletic, not because she enjoys being active, but because she is so competitive. Nikita likes to wiggle her way into other people’s lives and tear their relationships apart which