The Mind's Eye, Inc.
By Denny Schnulo

Denny began his writing career in at age eleven when he won the Arizona State Poetry contest with a poem about football. He assumes the honor was based on shear surprise that he had anything left under the helmet to think with.

After college Denny joined the Merchant Marines for a time. Eventually growing tired of the sea, he spent four years living in Kula Lumpur, Malaysia, and traveling extensively throughout the Far East and Australia. He then moved north and resided in London, England for three years, where he became well acquainted with The Pint and proper pub English.

In December of 2001, Denny, his wife, and two sons settled down in McKinney, Texas. He started writing again and has completed his first novel, Dimensions, which sits in his desk drawer were it belongs. He is currently at work on his second novel, The Focus Group, which he hopes will deserve the light of day.

 

     Finley McAllistar sidled up to the shop door, glanced up and down the deserted windblown street, and turned the deadbolt into place. He was locking up five minutes early, but at nine fifty-five an overdue customer was improbable. These days a customer was unlikely at any time of day, but at this late hour he could at least justify closing the doors.
      Tommy Dent, Fin's Sales Manager, called from the back of the shop, "Hey Fin, let's have a drink in the warehouse."
      "Pour em' out, I'll be right there," Fin called back.
      Tommy disappeared through the door to the overstocked warehouse, while Fin switched off the neon sign and pressed the button to lower the metal grate over the shop window. "McAllistar's Mind's Eye," was closed for the night.
      Fin surveyed the shop on his way back to warehouse. To his left a row of multi-colored acrylic pedestals displayed the four available Mind's Eye models, their pallet of sparkling metal flake plastic helmets attached to putty gray processing towers by bright orange fiber optic umbilical cords. To his right four rows of display shelves loaded with high margin accessories: gold plated connector sets, high resolution faceplate displays, video editing equipment and software, visual boiler plate disks, stock audio soundtrack disks, and processor tower memory expansion cards. Everything required for even the dullest mind to produce a vivid video recording of its mind's eye visions. Not an empty slot on any shelf, everything in stock.
      "Another damn dull day," Tommy said as Fin entered the warehouse. He handed Fin a plastic cup half full of Scotch. "We're gonna be buried if we don't sell some of these units soon." Tommy waved his own cup towards the stack of boxes that filled the warehouse.
      Fin's bookkeeper and romantic partner, Luella Searl, was seated at her desk just inside the warehouse door. "I called corporate again today to try and delay the next shipment; no go. The Franchise Agreements are inviolate stone tablets." She set her drink on the desk and crossed her legs, hiking up her skirt.
      Reflexively, Fin glanced at Luella's smooth tan thigh and then turned to Tommy, "We need a new angle, a hook."
      "You've been saying that for months, Boss, it's not on. Nobody's selling these things anymore. That's why corporate won't back off the shipment schedule, if they did they'd be buried in boxes," Tommy said.
      Luella looked into Fin's eyes. "Something has to give." She nodded towards Tommy.
      Fin shook his head. "Look, we have time to figure this out. We made a killing the first year after The Mind's Eye hit the market. I have money to finance a new angle. Tommy, you've got cash in the bank, don't you?"
      "I'm not good with money, Fin," Tommy replied. "I'm the idea man."
      "Damn it," Fin cursed, "who knew the human mind would prove so vapid? Greatest invention in history and its dead eighteen months after it hits the market."
      "It's like voices, Boss, great minds are few and far between," Tommy said. "Same thing happened way back with karaoke. Everyone's a virtuoso singing in the shower, but a few rounds on the microphone in public and reality sets in. Same thing here, everybody thinks their visions are brilliant, but put that helmet on their skull, project their thoughts onto the screen, and it's all off-key."
      "I suppose you're right," Fin sighed. "Open up the head of the average person and it's all carnal and greed. And the production values stink. Corporate needs to put R&D to work on some sort of visual reverb. If a Karaoke machine can bulk up a squeaky voice, why can't we dress up a weak mind?"
      "Guess it doesn't work that way. People's thoughts is people's thoughts; what shows up on the screen is what you get," Tommy said.
      "What we get are more units every week," Luella said. "The question remains, what do we do?"
      "Have one more drink, lock and up, and sleep on it," Fin said.

#

      Fin lay back on his pillow, took a deep drag on the cigarette, then reached down and slipped it between Luella's lips.
      Luella rolled her cheek off of Fin's chest, snuggling the back of her head into his armpit. Exhaling, she watched the smoke dance in the soft blue glow from the television. "Is our physical relationship the only reason you keep me around?"
      "You do your job," Fin said. He lifted the cigarette from her mouth and placed it in his own. He gazed blankly over Luella's head at the TV screen. The volume was too soft, background level, he couldn't hear over Luella.
      "Lot's of people could do my job. You could outsource it; everything is outsourced these days."
      "Watching the money is an in-house job."
      "But why me?" Luella asked.
      "I trust you."
      "Again, why?"
      Fin sighed, releasing a cloud of smoke. He folded his arm across her chest and said, "Because you've never violated our personal agreement. We sleep together for the pleasure of the moment, no obligations; no weird vibes. It's been months now and you still keep work separate."
      "Do you?"
      "If you screw up my books, you're gone," Fin said. "From the shop anyway. Change the subject."
      "Can we get out of the hole we're in?"
      "Tommy will come up with something, he always does."
      "He was pretty drunk when we left the shop."
      "That's when he does his best work. I'm sure he went home and opened another bottle. He'll stumble around the house, rage at the TV, howl at the moon, and something will pop into his head. He's a creative."
      Luella reached up and lifted the cigarette from Fin's hand, took a long slow drag. "You're a man with faith, Fin McAllistar."
      "Only in the proven; Tommy's been coming through for me since we were kids."
      "Practical faith only, you have no room for the mystical? What about religion? What about him?" Luella said pointing toward the television at the foot of the bed. On the screen was a newscaster reporting on a man called The Redeemer.
      Fin chuckled, "He's a kook, a natural outcrop from the fear and frustration generated by the bad economy and global tensions."
      "He's got quite a following and more join everyday."
      Fin snatched the cigarette from Luella's hand, took the final drag, and snuffed the butt out in the bedside ashtray. "It's just a small sect of kooks. I reckon the truth is they get you in their clutches, perform some sort of brainwash, and then you believe."
      "It could be true," Luella said as she rolled over and nuzzled Fin's chest. "I want it to be true."
      "A lot of people do," Fin replied, "that's how it works." A tag line lit up the screen, ‘AFRICAN VIRUS KILLS SEVEN IN NEW YORK.' He grabbed the remote off the bed and clicked off the TV. "Sleep now, we need to be fresh for Tommy's big idea."
      Luella reached over and switched off the bed stand light. Snuggling up to Fin in the darkness she said, "You keep faith with Tommy; tonight I'm dreaming The Redeemer is real. Somebody has to have some power over this wicked world."
      Fin replied with a faux snore.

#

      The next morning, Fin entered the back door of the warehouse and advanced straight to the trash can next to Luella's desk. He rummaged around, pulling out each empty bottle from the night before; not a drop left in any of them.
      Fin tossed the bare bottles back in the bin and headed out front to open the shop. With a leaden head he went about the morning routine: Roll up the grate, flip the closed sign to open, unlock the door, and turn on the neon sign. He felt weak, at loose ends.
      Fin shuffled morosely about the shop, tidying up the shelves. The state of his business, the state of the economy, the inevitable coming of doom, the rise of nuts like The Redeemer, it all sapped his strength. What he wanted now was a shot of Bourbon to get him going, but he'd settle for Tequila.
      The door from the warehouse swung open and Tommy bounded in, inexplicably bright and cheerful, "Hey Boss, I got great news. I got it."
      Fin winced and replied, "I hope by ‘it' you mean a bottle." Tommy had been far more hammered than Fin last night; apparently he'd scraped up a hair of the dog this morning; or he'd never stopped drinking.
      Tommy crossed the shop floor, reached into his jacket pocket and produced a pint of Bourbon. "Here you go, Boss," Tommy chirped, "but I wasn't referring to the booze."
      "No more pints, Tommy," Fin said, taking the bottle. "From now on it's Fifths or Liters only in this shop." He took a long swig and handed the little bottle back to Tommy.
      Tommy took the bottle, logged the comment about the larger bottles without question, and continued. "I got the idea that'll save our hides. I went home last and night and put on the old thinking cap and it heated right up."
      "I did a lot of thinking last night too," Fin said. "I want enough money to get into politics."
      "Come on Fin, not politics again," Tommy moaned.
      "Yes, again; it's the whole reason we moved down here to D.C.," Fin reminded him. "We're hustlers, con men by nature; politics are the biggest con of all."
      "That was years ago, Fin," Tommy said. "We can't break in, it's a closed game."
      True statement and Fin knew it, but today he refused to accept it. "Look Tommy, I want in, whatever it takes," Fin declared. "I don't want to hear a plan to save our hides; I want one that'll get us in the big game."
      "That isn't what you asked me for last night," Tommy huffed. "All I got is a rescue plan. If you wanted a plan for conquering then you should've said so."
      Fin could see Tommy was hurt. Idea Man was his identity and he'd spent the night fulfilling his role. Fin possessed the discipline and the financial touch, two things Tommy lacked completely. Tommy was the creative thinker, the guy with the original idea. Tommy thought up the scams and Fin ran them; that's the way the partnership worked.
      Fin motioned for Tommy to follow him into his office. "Alright, come in and tell me what you got."
      They trooped into the office where Fin plopped down heavily behind his desk. Tommy angled a chair so he could see both Fin and the front door of the shop.
      When they were both seated, Tommy leaned back and said, "Kiosks, booths, stalls, whatever you want to call them, they are the key to the plan. I like kiosks so that's what I'll call them. Anyway, we set them up all over the place, one for each unit we have in the warehouse; plus the incoming shipment, that's how many we set up. People won't have to buy a Mind's Eye Unit anymore; they can just pop into a kiosk and make a recording whenever they want. Just like the booths where you can record your own music video, or a photo booth. Matter of fact, that's where we put our kiosks, right next to those booths."
      "What about the shop?" Fin asked.
      "We both know the storefront sales model is dead for this product. Get out now before everyone else in the business figures it out. We can be the first to the kiosk market, but we better move quickly."
      "Why hasn't someone else done it?" Fin asked.
      "Because the Franchise Agreement forbids it," Luella said from the door to Fin's office.
      She startled Tommy, who'd been watching the front and hadn't seen her come in from the back. He recomposed quickly and said, "Who cares, we're going to crap out on that contract anyway. We might as well do it on our terms."
      "So you're saying we're stuck with the inventory either way; we can do what we want with it," Luella said.
      "Yeah, once we've made the decision to get out of the business, why worry what Corporate thinks," Tommy said. He grinned irreverently.
      "It takes thirty days notice to cancel, that'll mean four more shipments. And you're not out of the contract until you're paid up in full," Luella said.
      Fin asked, "How many units will that be in total?"
      Luella gazed at the ceiling while she did some mental calculations. "I estimate about twenty-two hundred all in."
      "We can afford that," Tommy said.
      "Don't forget setup costs to get the cash flow going again," Fin said.
      "Kiosk construction and deployment, licensing, a bit of advertising, discs, and a wad to the lawyers to make sure we're protected, that's it," Tommy said.
      "We'll have to give the property owners a cut," Fin said.
      "That comes out of cash flow," Tommy said.
      Fin sat silently for a moment then turned to Luella and said, "What do you think, Miss Bean Counter?"
      "Tommy's right, retail is dead as far as The Mind's Eye goes." She shot Tommy a conciliatory smile. "And you're stuck with the boxes either way. You've got some money. If you use the thirty day notice wisely you might just get a jump on them." Crossing her arms on her chest she added, "Payback time for your investment will depend on how well they go over."
      "Payback time is irrelevant, this is a sink or swim proposition," Fin said. "What do you mean by get a jump on them?"
      "If this works it'll erode their entire business model," Luella explained. "They are sure to try and slap an injunction on you as soon as they know what you're up to."
      "We need a mass deployment in a short time frame," Fin said.
      "That'd be my recommendation," Luella replied. "Establish a precedent; get a bunch of them out and operable before Corporate knows what hit them."
      "That's a tall order in thirty days," Fin said.
      "I've got a guy that can do the kiosks," Tommy said, "and a guy in the photo booth business; he can help us with the locations, contracts, and licenses."
      Fin laughed. Tommy always, ‘had a guy.' Rising from his desk, Fin held his hand towards Tommy and said, "Give me another hit off that bottle."
      Tommy handed Fin the bottle with a big smile; having a snort was tradition before starting a new venture. "This is going to be great, Boss, wait and see," Tommy chirped.
      Fin held the bottle out to Luella, "Ladies first, if you're in."
      Luella took the bottle and grinned. "I need the paycheck." She took a big swig, wiped the mouth of the bottle with her sleeve, and offered the pint to Tommy.
      Beaming proudly, Tommy took the bottle and downed a big gulp.
      Fin sealed the deal with his large swallow. "Alright, Luella you go over the Franchise exit terms in detail. Tommy, you and I are going to work on the rollout particulars. If it looks like we can get a good jump on Corporate, we'll cancel the contract today or tomorrow."
      "Hot damn," Tommy yelped.
      An hour later, after talking to Tommy's kiosk guy and the photo booth guy, Fin and Tommy charged into the warehouse to see Luella.
      "This thing is doable," Tommy said.
      Ignoring Tommy's announcement Luella stared at the TV on her desk. "Look at this." She pointed at the screen, which displayed a news crew giving a live update on location.
      "That's just down the road," Tommy said.
      "The authorities decided to arrest that Redeemer guy and close down his cult," Luella explained. "But it seems he escaped."
      A still photo of the fugitive man's face filled the screen.
      "Is he dangerous?" Fin asked.
      "They say yes, but haven't told why," Luella said. "The whole thing is kind of nebulous, like they're only telling part of the story."
      "That is all they ever tell, dear," Fin said.
      "They've got the area cordoned off," Tommy said. "Are we inside the perimeter?"
      "Nope," Luella replied, "We're a good six blocks away."
      "Then forget it," Tommy said. "What have you found out?"
      Luella turned from the TV to the contract paper on her desk. She pointed to a highlighted passage and said, "No sweat, just like I said. We give thirty days notice, pay the bills and we're out. What have you come up with?"
      "My guys are willing to work with us," Tommy said. "They can slot us in right at the top."
      "Getting to the head of the line is going to cost," Fin said. "We'll be tapped out."
      "How many kiosks can we get placed in thirty days?" Luella asked.
      "After the pay out for pole position, we can afford about five hundred," Fin replied. "Should be no problem getting the site contracts set up and the kiosks ready. The rollout is the limiting factor. I think we should do it over a three day stretch, Monday through Wednesday since it will be mostly Shopping Malls. We'll keep the kiosks covered and unveil on a Thursday coinciding with TV spots, a SPAM blitz, Internet banners, and radio ads."
      "You think three days is the limit for keeping things under wraps?" Luella asked.
      "Given the number of locations, some of which will no doubt have Mind's Eye storefronts, I think three days is pushing it," Fin replied.
      "Okay, where do we start?" Tommy asked.
      Fin rubbed his chin and said, "We need a design for the kiosk, a mock up. I'll uncrate a unit. Tommy, fetch some pallets from the alley. We'll cobble together a rough design and then refine it on paper."
      Tommy bounced towards the back door of the warehouse as Fin pulled a series of boxes off the shelves.
      While Fin worked Luella asked, "Are you sure you're okay with all this?"
      Pulling open a box Fin replied, "It's a solid interim step. We get these things online and the business runs itself. Tommy oversees the restocking and collections from the Kiosks and you look after the books. No more long hours in the shop for me; I can pursue other interests."
      She didn't ask what those interests were; she knew. "This isn't going to make you a ton of bucks you know; it will simply let you utilize the inventory and get out from under the contract."
      "Like I said, an interim step," Fin replied. He heaved a processing tower out of the box, kicked off the Styrofoam bumpers and placed it on the floor. "Once the operation is at full tilt, I'll press Tommy for another big idea."
      "He has an endless supply?" Luella asked. The phone on her desk began to ring.
      "He came through again this time," Fin said.
      Luella picked up the phone and covered the mouthpiece with her hand, "This isn't a big idea," Luella said.
      "It is within the parameters of my request," Fin said with a grin, "next time I'll formulate a better petition."
      Luella smiled back and then raised the phone, "McAllistar's Mind's Eye, may I help you?" As she listened her face darkened. Presently, she held the phone out to Fin, "Corporate. They want to talk to you."
      Fin continued his struggle with the equipment, "I'm busy, just tell them we're giving notice. Written copy to follow."
      "Tommy's kiosk guy contacted them," Luella said. "They're hiring him and slapping an injunction on us. We've been scooped."
      Fin stiffened, grimaced. "We've been betrayed. Hang up, now."
      Luella placed the phone softly in its cradle. "What now?"
      Tommy yelled from the back door, "Get over here, Boss, we got an intruder!"

#

      As Fin crossed the small warehouse, Luella in tow, he heard Tommy order the intruder to stay where he was at. Fin came up on Tommy's shoulder in time to hear a very composed voice say, "I have no intention of going anywhere. Your shop was my destination."
      Tommy stepped aside so Fin could see out the door. "Check this guy out, Boss. I opened the door and he just sort of appeared."
      Fin found himself staring at an oddly familiar face, perched atop a straight lean frame of regal bearing. The man's warm blue eyes considered Fin as his voluminous shirt and billowy pants waved in the gentle spring breeze. "You're the Redeemer fellow they're looking for," Fin said.
      "I am a customer who wishes to do business."
      "Then what are you doing sneaking around our back door?" Tommy asked.
      "Is front door entry a requirement for doing business in your shop?" the man inquired.
      "Normally, yes," Tommy said.
      "This not a normal situation," the man said.
      "What is it you want?" Fin asked.
      "To record a message on your Mind's Eye device."
      Fin stepped through the door into the alley and looked around. "We don't record messages, we sell the device itself." He saw no signs of the authorities in the alley, but they could be watching.
      "I have no need for the device other than for this one message," the man said. "Can you service my need?"
      Tommy slid up next to Fin. "We could use the demo room. If he is that Redeemer guy, we could make some money selling his recording to the media."
      Fin waved Tommy back. "What sort of message?"
      The man smiled warmly. "The same message I have spread since my arrival," he paused, extended his arms, palms to the sky, "here." Glancing about he continued, "I have executed my plan, but the message does not seem to have taken hold. I fear I may have failed in my mission." Folding his arms at his waist his gaze returned to Fin. "I thought it was time for a more contemporary approach."
      "A desperate act for desperate times," Fin said.
      "Perhaps," the man admitted. "Or acknowledgment of present circumstances."
      Luella finally spoke up, "Let him in, Fin. What can it hurt?"
      Fin turned and glared at Luella. "He's a fugitive from a rabid pack of Storm Troopers that are less than six blocks away. I don't want them finding him in my shop."
      "I will leave immediately after the recording is done," the man promised. "It won't take long."
      In the end, Fin was too intrigued to pass. "You've got ten minutes." Scanning the alleyway nervously, he gestured for the man to enter the warehouse.
      Gliding across the threshold, the man replied, "I'll need only five."
      As they passed through the warehouse and into the shop proper, Fin said, "Luella, lock the front door, flip the sign to ‘Closed.' I'll hook this fellow up. Tommy, you run the console."
      Tommy moved into the console booth, while Fin guided the man into the demo lab and onto the padded leather table. "Lay down," Fin instructed. He strapped the subject down and placed the helmet over his head. As Fin worked the helmet into place he noted the man's peaceful, attentive expression.
      "Okay, this isn't VR, it's output only, straight from your Mind's Eye," Fin explained. "The helmet does everything, no hand or feet hookups. You can keep your eyes closed and watch inside your head, or you can open them and the visor display will show you what we're seeing on our screens." Fin pointed to a mobile stack of equipment next to the table. "We pull vital signs from the data feed as well. Rarely happens, but some folk's sort of freak out if they open their eyes and look at the display. The medical monitor is silent so as not to distract you. But I'll be here watching. If you get into any trouble we'll take you offline."
      "Then you will monitor from in here?" the man asked.
      Popping through the door, Luella said, "Yes, we will."
      The man lifted his head and looked at Luella, then Fin, with an air of concern. Presently he dropped his head, closed his eyes and said, "Very well, if need be."
      Fin stepped back and sat down in a chair. He had a clear view of the monitor that displayed vitals and the large plasma screen that exhibited the output from the Mind's Eye. After latching it shut, Luella remained standing by the door. She stared eagerly at the plasma screen.
      "Can we begin?" Fin asked. The man nodded yes.
      Fin turned his gaze to the glass window of the control booth and gave Tommy the thumbs up. Tommy activated the system and Fin saw the plasma screen light up with scattered points of light; a star field.
      Suddenly the stars exploded, all of them, at once. They swelled; melding into a blinding beam of light that burst from the screen, filling the lab and hitting Fin like a physical blow. Everything went white, Fin rocked back in his chair, and then he was no longer in the lab.
      He was disembodied, floating but not adrift. Washed in a gentle white light, diffused by a light mist, he felt warm, cuddled. A sense of well-being enveloped him, calm, serene. He hovered, wrapped in tranquility. This must be inner peace, Fin mused. He felt joyful, fulfilled. Abruptly, everything went black.
      Fin opened his eyes. He was back in the lab; still in the chair. Unsteadily, he rose and surveyed the scene. Luella lay on the floor by the door, unconscious. In the control booth, Tommy's hand crept up onto the control board, pulling Tommy to his feet. The table was vacant; the man's imprint slowly fading from the padded leather.
      Fin ran through the open door into the shop, and then on through another into the warehouse. At the back of the warehouse he saw the door to the alleyway swing shut. He dashed across the warehouse and jerked open the door to the alley, breaking out into the sunlight. To his left he saw the man strolling towards the end of the building. He was about to turn the corner and disappear.
      "Hey," Fin yelled, "stop! Come back here."
      The man eased to halt and turned. With a beatific smile he said, "I'm done. I have to go. Thank you for your help."
      "What do you mean you're done?" Fin yelled. "Done with what? What just happened in there?"
      "That was my message."
      "I didn't hear anything. Nothing was said." Fin waved his arms in frustration.
      "The word has been around for thousands of years. It wasn't enough. Now you have the light."
      Fin froze, stared. He took a few quick strides towards the man. "The Light? What light? You mean like heavenly light?"
      A sympathetic smile crossed the man's face. "No, only a moment of grace; those who see it may learn from it."
      Fin slumped, resigned. "Or from the painful sense of loss when it ends."
      "Not the intention, but inherent."
      "So what do I do with it?" Fin asked.
      "You're now the rock, build on it."
      "And you?"
      "I must give myself over to the authorities."
      Fin raised his hand; wanted to yell, "No!" but the man turned the corner and was gone. Fin spun towards the footsteps pounding up behind him. Breathless, Tommy arrived clutching a disk; Luella close behind.
      "We got it, the whole thing. I tested it," Tommy said. He waved the disk like a prize. "If we market this right, it will make us rich."
      "And powerful," Luella added. Hunger filled her eyes.
      Fin stared at Luella, then Tommy. He peered into them for the first time. Saw their need for recognition, for validation. And he saw himself. It all seemed so insubstantial, washed out by the light of the Redeemer's revelation. The normal daily struggles, so amplified in an atmosphere of prosperity, lost all their magnitude when played against the cosmos. He snatched the disk from Tommy and stared at it.
      "I've never felt that way before," Fin said. "I want to feel it again. Not imposed on me, but from within, self generated. Prestige and power hasn't done it. We've been looking in the wrong places."
      "There's nothing on there about where to look," Luella said.
      Fin looked at her. "We have to figure that part out. It's our next big thing." Feeling solid inside, he strode off towards the warehouse.

© 2005 Denny Schnulo

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