The Happy Haven, James Gerard [best electronic book reader TXT] 📗

matter of stroking his ego and to silently cry out to the world of the power of his ingenious mind.  To Bill, the truth was evident.

 

Regardless of the obvious transparency of the message, Bill reluctantly concluded they had to have tested the machine secretly without the knowledge of the group. Fingers began tapping the tabletop.  An unsettling feeling over the direct violation of the contract’s term started to make the body quiver.  Thoughts were forced to face the consequences, consequences that the man had made quite clear that once ready for testing all data was to be turned over.  If violated, a cruel punishment would be meted out.  Bill, as well as his colleagues, understood that all too well.

 

Then Bill considered that they had to take into account a scientist's curiosity over his or her own invention.  Yes, he concluded, so a little bit of discrete indiscretions.  What’s the big deal?   And in spite of signing the contracts, the acceptance of all the built-in bonuses and perks, a means to establish a trust that would let them go about their job without pressure from the group, what is the harm in that?

 

“Stupid,” whispered Bill, “I’m worried about nothing.”

 

The attention turned back to the note to read the rest of the scribbled words.

 

 “No,” he laughed aloud, “You can’t be serious?”

 

He considered from whose warped mind the request originated, but considering Kevin, Kenny, and Paul, he only had a partial clue.  The request asked for specific details regarding events they all knew had been disproven over and over again by the great minds of the past, so the outlandish topic made no sense.

 

Bill could somewhat understand if the requested details were simply devised as a means for a test alone, yet something about it seemed sinister.  Then again, he reasoned, the subject matter was not the focus, but rather a second confirmation to the accuracy of the machine.

 

Bill playfully poked fun at the request by whispering, “Oh, lucky me to be the one on break while all of this went down.”  But nevertheless, he knew their expectations to act accordingly as a team member, bad timing or not, needed to be fulfilled.

Stress over a Useless Question

Bill suddenly looked around and noticed how the look of the interior of the coffee house had dramatically changed.  He glanced at the watch.  Was it the angle of the sun or the natural light that had shortened the shadows and brightened up the faces of tables and walls without notice?

 

He fiddled around with the idea that the perceived change was due to the fact that the focus had shifted from elation derived from success to the dreary prospect of having to now deal with providing answers to the question.  He could not be sure.

 

Maybe, he guessed, the lounge was thought of nothing more than a locale by which to read the messages in privacy.  But logically, the disconcerting feeling boiled down to just a matter of delving into a subject matter in which there was simply no interest.  The feeling felt just like the one in having many literature classes force-fed down his throat to ensure a well-balanced body of learning.  Emotionally, however, sneaking suspicions stuck around in the mind.

 

And to make matters worse, was an utter disbelief over how the group’s representative, the man who acted as the spokesman for those only wishing to enjoy the fruits of the work, could be blinded to the success of producing the desired results.   Even though he had never mentioned there would be a means to keep track of their progress, there had to have been.  As Bill recalled, the very subject was never even breached.  But he had to be aware of what they were up to.  There was just too much at stake.

 

In spite of the agreed upon contract, a muddled vision over how Kevin, Terry, and Paul could have succumbed to what only could have been plain old curiosity in the first place, came to mind.  But at the same time, curiosity, no matter the illogic behind it, had to be the prime motive to compromise the agreed upon contract.

 

The more he thought about it the more Kevin and Terry came up as the prime culprits in such a moronic plan.  Knowing Paul as well as he did, Bill concluded that his friend probably had put up an objection to the plan but was soundly defeated by the other’s combined intellect.  Maybe Paul tried to convince them that what they were proposing would be met with dire consequences, but in the end gave way to the persuasion of both Kevin and Terry.

 

Doubt also invited back suspicions over the convenient timing of the success.  The achievement just had to occurr while he happened to be away.  Certainly, not one of the three would even think twice about rejecting the request.  Therefore, as Bill now viewed it, that would make him responsible to perform the dirty work of seeking out the answer to their ridiculous request no matter how reluctant he was to do so.

 

Sitting alone at the booth, Bill looked out of one of the big bay windows and stared at the Maseratti parked across the street.  He began fidgeting about the seat thinking if it had been a good idea asking for the outrageously posh car to begin with.  Parked at a curbside meter, it was open to the judgments of both coveting and stares of contempt, as well as to the hushed whisperings of strangers walking by.

 

He suspected that they saw the high priced vehicle standing out among the small and practical cars as if to mock their lowly existence.  He looked around for faces staring intently through the window and for those that may have witnessed him walking into the coffee lounge knowing that he was the owner of the vehicle, but except for a few stray stares, none were spotted.  Still, if he had been spotted, whoever must have wondered why would such a man of means opt for a cup of coffee at such a low end establishment.

 

The sophisticated smart phone, one made available to the elite only, differed vastly in both functionality and accessibility from the inferior, common ones sold to the rest of the world.  It was set atop the table waiting for a command.  And just as fingers laid pose to tap in the question for the private search engine to flash the sites where a succinct answer would be provided, awareness over accessing such sites could raise suspicions.  Bill wondered if there were eyes vigilantly guarding the secretive wealth of information on the private search engine.  And if there were, would his question serve as a red flag to those monitoring the electronic communications?

 

Or worse, considered Bill, the signal emitted could be captured by any number of sophisticated covert groups lying in wait to hack the secrets of the rich and powerful thereby drawing undue attention to the objective of the project.   After all, he recalled that past searches for information dealt with minor details that could be innocently answered by accessing past issues of scientific journals to seek for clues as to how to proceed and avoid dead ends.  This time, the requested information was too off the path of scientific inquiry. 

 

“Why me guys?” he whispered. 

 

The most likely answer to the question came percolating through a layer of a dislike for both Kevin and Terry, or more aptly, their dislike for him.  Bill realized the negative feelings that existed had very little to do with how they had been quickly dismissive of both his ideas and input at times, but more with the fact their boyish, cruel, and outlandish natures seemed to be designed to mess with his mind.

 

But then again, the idea that they would go through with such ill-advised attempt at humor considering the serious of the matter was quickly dismissed.  Like it or not, he realized, the work simply rested on him due to the timing of the rotation.  And if they’re serious and the request was actually genuine, then breaching a topic that neither he nor they had ever been interested in, or at the very least, only acknowledged in a mocking fashion, was in need of an answer.

 

The attention focused back on the note.  He wanted to see if they expected a prompt reply to the request or to wait it out until the thirty days expired and come in as normal.  There were no instructions either way.  “But what if they expect the answer tomorrow?” Bill wondered.

 

Fingers hovered over the screen, but then pushed the smart phone aside.  With a notepad and pen in hand, he searched the mind for obvious sources to consult as well as unconventional references which could lead to an answer in a round-about way.

 

The paper quickly filled.  Peering over the list, however, Bill did not look forward to the research.  The very thought of having to read through pages and pages of boring and fictitious accountings of pure fantasty made him cringe.

 

“Damn!” Bill declared in trying to stir up the memories of a past friend or schoolmate that just might be able to provide a quick and simple answer, but no one came to mind.  The two coffee workers temporarily stopped and stared after a jubilant shout of “of course” disturbed the peaceful scene.

 

Then a smile radiated brightly in remembering an odd acquaintance from the recent past, one who had briefly ran in the same circle of child prodigies at the university.  And although Bill realized it had been a number of years since he had seen or even talked to Scott, he was more than confident that he could steer him in a direction that was both discreet and direct. 

 

Fingers tapped away.  A clandestine website accessible to only a privileged few flashed on the screen.  Before typing in Scott’s full name, Bill reconsidered any that would surely see a red flag warning at the very mention of Scott.  After all, it was no secret that he had been considered to be the next of the great minds, the newest intellectual pioneer that would bring to fruition many of the theories constructed by the fathers of the past.  And it was not that Scott had done anything deemed so despicable, he believed, for he had merely rejected the path that had been laid out for him.   And while the decision alone seemed harmless of itself, there were lingering suspicions that those which viewed his choice as an act of treason against the mighty and powerful, were prepared to carry out a full-blown investigation at the mere mention of the traitor.

 

Yet, Bill still held Scott in high-esteem—he was one of them after all.  A mind like no other he had ever encountered as well.   And to merely tap into his genius, the visionary whose perception of the unknown universe rivaled the knowledge, the postulations, and the theories of the greatest physicists that ever lived should by all means be an acceptable source regardless of stirring up the ire of the high and haughty.

 

Seconds passed.  Fingers hovered over the screen.  The full name was tapped in.  A complete dossier appeared.  “Interesting,” Bill noticed.  “That’s how you make a living.  Looks like you’re doing quite well.”  But Bill found that of little interest.  Scrolling though the details and summaries finally revealed Scott’s most likely whereabouts during the day.  It was a local drinking establishment called “The Happy Haven.”   From the summaries given, the