Veritas

VERITAS

by

H. BUCK SAWYER

Copyright © 2019 by

H. Buck Sawyer

Smashwords Edition

Table of Contents

Title

Copyright

Story

VERITAS

Tom Trumbull was at home working in his combination office and electronics lab. He was about fifty, mature but not lacking a youthful stance in life, and fit enough to still move well on the tennis or basketball courts. His hands flowed smoothly over the electronic equipment and the laptop on his lab bench, and he was humming to himself to provide the custom sound track that he liked to have when the work was going nicely. Tom believed that spinning your own soundtrack was a good way to celebrate the movie of which you are the creator and star. Often you’re the only witness to what you’re doing, but the wise understand that one witness is enough. You don’t need a guardian angel, saints, cosmic accountants, aliens, or your mother to tell you that you’re doing something really neat. The universe is a busy place, and it’s counting on you to handle the full appreciation of the fresh blossoms in your vicinity. If you can provide some music to go with it, all the better.

Tom’s invention was a video camera that could photograph the human aura, linked to software he created to manipulate the images. And at this point, the more challenging tasks of his project were done- the steps that required every available circuit of his neural capacity tightly focused to accomplish the godly trick of bringing a complex cloud of factors together to squeeze and weave the laws of physics and electromagnetic forces into the creation of a device never seen before, at least on this humble planet. Once he had gotten the basic aura image capture function going, he had taken pictures of himself while concentrating on different states of mind, and from there he had eventually developed the beginnings of a software system for interpreting or correlating emotional states with images shown on his computer screen.

He was excited that he was finally making progress refining the process, and concentrating at the moment on coaching himself for a photo with a stronger sad feeling. He didn’t notice his wife standing at the lab door, just home from work and having entered the house quietly to avoid disturbing him. Oh, yes, you were so hurt, so sad, he cooed softly to stir up his old memories from childhood. Grandpa’s dead, and you’re never going to see him again. No more fishing trips. He tweaked a couple of knobs on his converter control panel and watched the image on the screen change slightly. No more riding in Grandpa’s lap steering the truck. Grandpa’s dead. He was doing a good job activating his memories and the related emotional neurons, and he wasn’t aware that Diana was watching him and wishing that he could do as good a job with feelings when she needed to square off with him at times.

With the deft manner of a seasoned facilitator of emotional processing, she gently commented, Tapping off that old pain can soften a lot of scar tissue, Tom. Maybe even with a virtual therapist. Tom’s body jumped a little at the sudden intrusion into his private tender zone, and he felt his emotional shielding clanging back into place as his breathing quickened. Is that what you’re working on? she offered, as though handing him a tissue. Could be a real winner. She stayed by the door, mercifully intending to give him a sense of space to recover his composure before she approached him for the customary welcome home hug.

Oh, hi, honey, he stalled. Ah, virtual therapist? No. But, ah, therapists might like this gadget. I think I’m getting photos of feelings.

Now she walked over and gave him a hug. Oh, good. So maybe you could email your therapist a picture of your feelings from a nice safe distance. A lot of guys might like that. I don’t think it would really move the process forward, but I guess there’s a chance it could shake something loose.

Well, that’s not what I’m after anyway. I’m hoping to get this to work like a lie detector. But I’ve got to figure out what I’m seeing first.

Diana peered at the aura on the screen, captured as a still image from Tom’s last moment on camera. It was a complex tangle of glowing blobs, filaments, and spots of various sizes and colors.

See those blue dripping looking things? he asked. I think those are from the sadness I was feeling remembering his funeral. They weren’t there before that. He clicked to bring up an earlier image, which looked similar overall, but did, indeed, lack the blue drips. See? No blue. But clusters of yellow ripples around that red area. I was doing the happy memories of riding the tractor with grandpa.

Wow. That is amazing. Have you gotten any other particular correlations yet?

Not yet. Just getting started on this part. It’s tricky adjusting the combination of stimulator frequencies and tuning the translation of response into colors.

Well, you just keep sticking your periscope into other dimensions, honey. I going to try some kitchen magic. Stroganoff tonight.

Tom salivated the hopeful words Beef stroganoff?

Of course not. Veggie. Didn’t you get enough meat this week?

Yeah. I had a giant meatball sub yesterday.

Oh, that should last the hunter a few days.

Right. And I’ve got some sausage stashed in the freezer too, in case I start feeling weak. I did make the lemon pudding cake for tonight.

All right. That always a hit. They’re coming at six, right?

Yeah. They’re bringing hors d’oeuvres.

In the Trumbull dining room that evening, the last spoonfuls of lemon pudding cake were disappearing with eulogies in soft sounds of intense pleasure. Their friend Ted poured himself more coffee, and offered refills around the table.

No thanks said Diana. Get’s me too revved up at this hour.

All set, dear, said Ted’s wife, Sherry.

What a feast, said Ted, pushing his empty plate away. I hope I didn’t disgrace myself by eating too much.

Not possible, said Diana. The cooks love to see a good reception.

Tom added, And that turbo charged coffee should keep you from slowing down while you’re digesting.

Sherry challenged, Maintaining equilibrium by balancing extremes, Tom?

Holds atoms together, he said. Must be a reasonable principle.

Well, are you two ready to check out Tom’s latest project? Diana invited.

Ted stood. I believe I am, indeed, perfectly balanced and ready for that adventure now. What’s new, Mr Wizard?

They all headed for the lab. Well, we want to make sure you really liked the food, so we’re going to give you a little lie detector test, said Tom. The second and third servings could have just been an attempt at flattery.

I don’t think so. Ted patted his tummy happily.

In his office, Tom pointed to a few photos he had tacked to the wall, each showing a colorful aura pattern. These are from my new lie detector. That’s me in the pictures. But you will have the honor of being the first real test subject.

Sherry and Ted paused to look at the photos, studying the differences. Looks like aura photos somebody had at the psychic fair I went to a couple months ago, she said. You made an aura camera?

I saw a book like that once, added Ted. Kirlin photography, or something like that.

Yes. Kirlian. But that was debunked, said Tom. The images were neat, but it turned out they were due to moisture on the exposure plate, and the object had to be right on that plate. My device operates more like radar. No physical contact at all between device and subject. I’ve tried it up to 20 feet away.

So, what are those little things in the picture? Is this like an MRI? she asked.

The photos were all of me, but taken when I was in different moods.

So, what’s the lie detector part? prodded Ted, wondering if he could fool the gadget.

Have you ever seen auras? Diana asked her friends.

Tried a lot, said Sherry. I don’t know. I may have seen something like that, but it may very well have been just imagination.

That’s the problem with a lot of psychic research, conceded Diana. It’s hard to prove anything.

True, agreed Tom. But I’m hoping to make some headway there. On those photos, I’ve got four different emotions. The raw images from the device are enhanced by the software I’m developing to try to bring out recognizable patterns for different states of consciousness.

Ted kept probing, relishing the chance to win what seemed to him like a video game. Gonna tell us which is which? I mean, I can see some differences, but what are we looking at?

On the left, that’s happy, said Tom, pointing. Those small yellow ripples occur with quiet happiness.

What’s this one? Little red spots. Sherry pointed to the next photo.

That’s anger. Quiet anger. I was thinking about dictators and genocide.

Do you have an application in mind yet? asked Sherry. At this point, we’re not seeing anything you can’t read on somebody’s face.

Granted, said Diana. But this is just the beginning. Imagine being able to take a picture and see that someone had enough simmering anger to be a potential killer.

"Oh, that could be really good. But what