Author's note.
This was the first short story I ever wrote. There is no sex in this one, but I hope you enjoy it just the same.
Talemaster
*
Frank lit another cigarette as he looked at his equations. Oblivious of the splendid Australian autumn afternoon and the traffic around him he contemplated his calculations. They seemed right. Omniscan would be pleased. Anyone looking at Frank in his faded jeans, the tee-shirt and thongs, sitting in a pavement cafe in Sydney's Kings Cross, sipping mineral water and smoking incessantly, would have never guessed that Frank was the wealthiest and most powerful man on earth. The fact that he was did not bother Frank; he didn't know!
He was in his early sixties, balding, bespectacled and still a virgin. Frank was a genius. He was also a nut!
He scanned his equations once more and, satisfied with his work, closed the folder. Frank waved impatiently to the waitress, paid his bill and hurriedly crossed the street. He lived in a charming art deco building not more than fifty yards away in Macleay Street. The building stemmed from the 1930s and had been tastefully and meticulously restored to its former splendour. Frank had chosen the building carefully, not for its old world charm, but for the people that lived there. The occupants of the sixty or so units in the building were mostly retired and comparatively well off; the units were not cheap. Life was sedate, the problems confined to the weather, the occasional illness or death, and the cost of living. Visitors seldom called, there were no loud parties and above all, there was little curiosity about neighbours. This suited Frank. In the beginning he let it be known that he was a technical writer who wrote books about computers at home. He even showed some books around that had his name on the cover. No-one wondered after that why Frank was always home, or why computer equipment was moved in and out of his unit from time to time. They even let him install a satellite dish on the roof that he said he needed for his work. He was well liked in the building, for though a quiet and withdrawn man, who kept to himself, he had a charming manner about him and never talked ill about anyone.
Frank took the lift to the second floor and unlocked the door to his apartment. He entered the tiny hall, not much larger than a shower recess, and closed the door behind him carefully. As soon as the lock clicked shut the heavy steel inner door slid noiselessly open to reveal a large L-shaped room. It was like stepping into another world.
The room looked like the command centre of the USS. Enterprise in the popular science fiction series Star Trek. Electronic equipment was mounted along the walls from floor to ceiling, monitors displaying all sorts of data were stacked one above the other, a large console was mounted on a revolving platform in the middle of the room, and could be moved to face in any direction at the touch of a button. There were no windows. A large screen on the far wall, reaching from ceiling to floor, sprung into life as Frank sat behind the console. It showed the inside of a luxurious library, with a man sitting behind an exquisitely carved antique desk.
"Good afternoon," the man said. "Do you have the equations?"
The man looked and sounded remarkably like Richard Burton. It was no coincidence. Frank had designed it that way.
"Good afternoon Omniscan," Frank replied. "Yes, they are ready."
He fed the papers into the scanner on his console.
"That is good Frank," said Richard Burton. "You have done it this time. This is all I need. You will have your answer in forty eight hours and seventeen minutes."
Frank's heart skipped a beat. He had not expected this. After all these years he would finally KNOW! The question that had plagued him all his life, that had dominated everything, his work, his dreams, his very soul, would finally be answered. Silently he watched as the picture faded. Soft lights cut in as the screen went blank, making the austere room look rather cosy.
"Invitation to the dance," Frank said, leaning back in the heavy leather chair that was part of the console.
As the soft strains of Weber's music filled the room Frank closed his eyes and thought about his life. It seemed a fitting moment.
* * *
He remembered when he first heard about God. He was a small child then, listening wide eyed to the stories of the bible like most children of his generation. Unlike other children, he questioned what he was told almost right from the beginning. His genius was already asserting itself. He could clearly see the discrepancies between the teachings and observable reality, even at this early age. As he grew older he found to his amazement that there were many different versions of God, each with His own teachings, each the only and true God to His followers and each one asking His followers to believe in Him, for there was no proof of His existence. It was deemed virtuous not to question the teachings. It struck him as odd that believers followed with fervour and single-mindedness such a tenuous notion, to the point of killing each other over some esoteric interpretation or fundamental difference of opinion.
'People', Frank reasoned, 'don't know anything about God! They do not even know for certain if He exists.' Here was something worthwhile to do! Frank decided he would become the man who would prove to the world the existence or non-existence of God. He was only ten when he made the decision. It was to shape his life.
Frank gravitated naturally to computers. When he first heard about them he sensed that these machines could become a powerful extension to his mind that would help him in his quest. Computers had just become affordable and he was one of the first teenagers in town to have one. It was a primitive affair, not much more than a calculator really, but it did have a cassette recorder as a storage device, and it could be programmed. It used the home television set as a monitor.
Frank found his calling. Within weeks he not only mastered the device, but redesigned and reprogrammed it, so that it could do things that the designers had not thought possible.
Nigel, Frank's mathematics teacher was a friend of the family. He was also the boy's godfather. He loved the boy and spent much of his spare time teaching him mathematics and physics. Frank's knowledge of these subjects was way beyond that of students ten years older. The boy was a pleasure to teach. He was eager for knowledge and a fast learner. Nigel seldom needed to repeat himself, even on difficult material. The boy's ability to understand and his phenomenal memory were a joy for any teacher. Nigel had an interest in computers himself. He watched with amazement Frank's progress. There was no doubt the boy had a natural talent. He decided to do something more for the boy.
The school had a special fund for gifted children. He put in an application on Frank's behalf and succeeded in providing the boy with private tuition.
The tutor was a university graduate who was involved in computer design and programming. It was the best man Nigel could find. The boy made excellent progress. A year later the tutor came to see Nigel. He told him that he could help Frank no further.
"The boy is a genius," he said. "He has a grasp on the subject that goes way beyond my understanding. I have difficulties following his equations, even after he explains them to me. It is almost as though he is capable of thinking like a machine. Mark my words, this boy will go far."
"What should we do with him then?" asked Nigel with some concern.
"I have an idea," said the tutor. "A friend of mine runs a computer service bureau. He needs good operators and programmers. I have told him about Frank, and he is willing to give him a try. Frank will have access to a decent machine, he can use and broaden his skills in this environment better than anywhere else."
"But the boy is not even fourteen yet!" exclaimed Nigel.
"So what? Regard it as an apprenticeship. Surely you can convince the authorities that Frank's talent is a special case that needs special consideration."
Within four weeks Frank was working as a computer operator. He was sacked six months later, after his employer discovered that Frank had made unauthorised modifications to the computer. The fact that the machine's efficiency was dramatically improved did not seem to matter.
Frank was not unemployed for long. The very next day a representative of the computer manufacturer came to see Frank's father with a contract for the boy. Frank accepted. He worked with the company for three years. His new job gave him access to installations he would have never seen otherwise, such as defence department computers, banking computers as well as those of the taxation department and scientific institutions. He learned fast. He was still obsessed with the question of God's existence.
He reasoned that the task he had set himself was beyond a human beings capacity to handle. There was not enough time in the life of man to acquire and evaluate the needed information. If he was to succeed he would need two things, access to all the information in the world and processing power, lots of it. Frank pondered the problem and suddenly he could see a way. It was so simple. His genius had done it again.
He knew that there were a number of very large machines around that had spare capacity. If he could link all these machines together in some way, and gain control of the linkup, he would in effect have the largest computer in the world at his command by just using the spare capacity of idle machines. If he was clever no-one would even know he was doing it. This would provide him with the processing power he needed to solve his question. It would cost him very little.
Computer linkups existed already. Some machines were communicating with each other via rented telephone lines. Teams were already working on communication via satellite. The technology was just around the corner and would be common place within ten years. If he could gain control of just one satellite, the rest would be easy. Frank already knew how to do this.
The company that was in the forefront of program development in that area was SatCom, a US. enterprise based in Los Angeles. They had a problem. Their most popular communications software called TeleLink had a number of bugs in it that the technicians had been unable to eliminate in the last two years. SatCom's customers were unhappy, yet kept using the program just the same. It was the best of a bad bunch.
Frank acquired a copy and single handedly rewrote the whole thing in six months. He tested it on the machine of one of his company's clients. It worked flawlessly.
Frank quit his job and went to Los Angeles. He commissioned a detective agency to investigate SatCom and its managing director Geoff Richards. After four weeks Frank decided he had enough information and made his move. He knew that Geoff was in the habit of dining every Sunday night in a little Mexican restaurant in downtown LA. with his boyfriend. Geoff's boyfriend was always at least half an hour late, a fact that caused a lot of friction between the two. Frank decided to use this half hour. He went to the restaurant early, a computer tape of his program under his arm. Geoff was on time, as usual, and ordered a drink. Frank waited until the drink arrived, then stood up, went to Geoff's table and without a word put the tape on Geoffs dinner plate.
Geoff looked up, bewildered. "What is this? Who are you?"
Frank looked him straight in the eye and said calmly: "This is a bug free version of TeleLink. I wrote it myself. As to who I am, here is my card. Test the program and if you like what you see give me a call on Friday. This should give you enough time to check it out."
"Why are you doing this? What is it that you want from me?" Geoff asked, unsure of whether he was dealing with some dangerous nut.