Fiction
Doctor Scrambler
Genius or snake oil salesman?
Dr. Olivia Bettlesmith and Dr. Courtland Franzblau walked down the long corridor towards the conference room. Their footsteps echoed in the near-empty tunnel-like corporate hallway.
“I didn’t get the memo.” Dr. Courtland Franzblau looked at Dr. Olivia Bettlesmith as they walked, “Who the heck is this Dr. Scrambler and why are we going to hear him speak?”
Dr. Olivia Bettlesmith did not look at him, keeping her eyes focused straight ahead, “Well, Dr. Scrambler is not his real name. People call him that for two reasons: One, no one can pronounce his real name, and two, because his invention which he claims will change the world is called, The Scrambler.”
“Invention that will change the world, huh? Didn’t they say that about the atomic bomb? So where does this Dr. Scrambler hail from?”
Both scientists stopped as they reached the door to the conference room. Dr. Olivia Bettlesmith turned to Dr. Courtland Franzblau and smiled, “Supposedly, he crept out from some dark and dingy hidden corner of academia where he had been working on his invention in a secret lab above his father’s garage for the last twenty years. I think it was somewhere in New Jersey.”
Dr. Courtland Franzblau rolled his eyes as he opened the door to the conference room and motioned for Dr. Olivia Bettlesmith to enter.
The long and expensive mahogany conference table sat twenty-two people but there were only eight people already seated. A young skinny man in a black suit and tie was serving coffee to those at the table.
Dr. Olivia Bettlesmith and Dr. Courtland Franzblau sat down next to each other near the center of the table and commenced to greet and speak pleasantries with their colleagues seated at the table. Over the next few minutes more scientists entered the room.
Sitting atop the table near the head of the table was some sort of device that was covered up by a small vinyl blanket.
Before long all the seats at the table were occupied save for the chair at the head of the table and the chair to that chair’s right. Feverish coffee consumption kept the young skinny man in a black suit and tie busy.
Finally, through a side door, two men entered. One was Dr. Nicasio Pummelhorn, the CEO of the corporation. The other man was a stranger wearing tattered blue jeans, cowboy boots, and a very bright multi-colored Hawaiian shirt. His hair looked like he had just gotten up out of bed and his black-framed glasses were sitting halfway down his nose. He was sporting four days of beard stubble. Everyone assumed it must be Dr. Scrambler.
The skinny man in a black suit and tie brought Dr. Pummelhorn some coffee and inquired of Dr. Scrambler what he wanted. Dr. Scrambler declined coffee and asked for a Dr. Pepper.
Dr. Nicasio Pummelhorn remained standing and addressed the twenty scientists seated at the table, “Thank you all for coming. You are about to witness history being made. A machine has been invented that will revolutionize all life on the planet. We have the opportunity to be the company that produces these machines and spreads them around the world to bring about a gigantic leap in human consciousness. We can be a part of helping humankind step into an extraordinary new golden age. So without further ado allow me to introduce Dr. Mglruclipl Flamschrulltm… or as he is now known, Dr. Scrambler.”
As the scientists clapped, Dr. Nicassio Pummelhorn sat down and, after taking a gulp of Dr. Pepper, Dr. Scrambler stood and bowed before all at the table.
“Please, ya’ll can just call me Doctor Scrambler. Society has a lot of problems. There’s crime. addictions, epidemics, violence, politics, inequality, poverty, depression, climate change, racism, hatred, and, of course, evil. Well, after twenty years of intense research I have invented a device that can solve every one of those problems. It has the potential of changing life as we know it. Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you… The Scrambler.”
The weird inventor reached forward and, with great flair, pulled the small vinyl blanket up off the device.
The machine looked like a cross between a microscope, a computer, a satellite dish, a Mr. Coffee coffee maker, and one of those lunchmeat slicing machines one sees at the local deli.
“As everyone knows, collective mass human consciousness is an amalgamation and coagulation of all the consciousness of humans. Individual human consciousness tends to stay within a very narrow spectrum of vibratory frequency. We humans think the same thoughts over and over and over and we hold on to beliefs without ever questioning them and we have a fear of any thoughts that might rattle the cage of our mental comfort zones.”
“This is why collective human consciousness is so hard to change and evolve. It stays within the narrow spectrum of frequency that is the sum of its parts. One person can breach the envelope and venture forth into new frequencies of thought and ideas and awareness but that will have precious little impact on the collective frequency. Usually it takes a critical mass of humans all moving into a new frequency together in order to pull the collective consciousness into that new frequency. Sadly, it can take seemingly forever to reach that critical mass.”
“Occasionally, the collective human consciousness frequency can be boosted higher by a cataclysm that affects most everyone; things like a plague or a great war or environmental catastrophes. But even then evolutionary movement forward is slow and sluggish because so many people hold on for dear life to past frequencies. It’s like a glue holding them in place.”
“It’s like the caterpillar that evolves into a butterfly. In order for the consciousness of the caterpillar to turn into the consciousness of the butterfly its consciousness must first dissolve into a mush inside a cocoon. In this way a whole new frequency of consciousness can form. The mush dissolves the old consciousness in order to make room for the new consciousness to take hold in order to manifest a new reality.”
“Humans, however, are deathly afraid of the mush. Their intense fear is the glue that keeps the old consciousness in place. But thanks to my invention, The Scrambler, we don’t have to wait for some cataclysm to light a fire under our collective feet.”
“A few months ago we tested The Scrambler in Scootleberry, Wendovia. At the time Scootleberry was in the grips of a particularly pernicious crime wave. Theft, kidnapping, assault and battery, bribery, infidelity, spousal abuse, rape, arson, and murder were all rampant. The jails were overflowing.”
“So we brought The Scrambler there and positioned it atop a small hill just outside of town. The crime-filled mass consciousness of the town hung over the town like a blanket of smog. We pointed The Scrambler at that mass consciousness cloud.”
“Now The Scrambler is designed to inject a higher vibratory frequency of consciousness into the collective but first it must ‘scramble’ the current frequency of consciousness. In other words, the current prevailing frequency is turned to mush. While temporarily in that scrambled state of mush is when a new higher frequency — one free of the concepts of crime — are injected by The Scrambler. Once the scrambled mush gels back together in a new frequency, as is its natural tendency, then the collective consciousness returns at a higher frequency and everyone who is a part of the collective consciousness changes to match the new frequency.”
“To my utter joy, the Scootleberry experiment worked. Within just one day the crime rate in the town fell to zero. In the subsequent three months not one single crime has been reported.”
Oohs and ahs reverberated throughout the conference room.
“Now The Scrambler is a very intricate piece of machinery and is very complicated to build. That is why it costs around eight and a half million dollars to produce each machine. We calculate it would take about a thousand of these machines placed strategically around the world to bring about the new golden age of consciousness.”
“But we have seen what it can do. The price is really not that great in consideration of how humankind’s destiny and evolution can be enhanced. It may be our last best hope to avert some horrific cataclysm. It may very well be what saves the world.”
For the next hour and twenty-two minutes, while the skinny man in a black suit and tie served cheesecake and refilled coffee cups, Doctor Scrambler talked endlessly about the intricate mechanisms of his invention, the materials needed to manufacture the device, and the complicated algorithms needed to attune vibratory frequencies.
When the talk was finally over Dr. Olivia Bettlesmith and Dr. Courtland Franzblau were among the first to leave the conference room.
Walking in silence they proceeded down the corridor until they got to the door leading out onto the balcony that looked out over the well-manicured grounds of the corporate campus. Once outside, Dr. Olivia Bettlesmith fished around in her purse for her cigarettes and lighter.
After lighting her cigarette and taking a deep inhalation of smoke she turned to Dr. Courtland Franzblau, “So Courtie, whatchya think about all that?
“Well, wow… wow… I have to say that I’m rather jazzed up right now. Think of all the possibilities. With the help of that machine we can solve every problem that humankind is struggling with. This is truly groundbreaking. Doctor Scrambler might be a bit eccentric but he obviously wants to help humankind evolve to a higher consciousness. What about you, Olivia darling? What do you think?”
She took another deep drag on her cigarette, “I think Doctor Goofball may as well have put a toaster on that table. There already exists two machines that can do what The Scrambler allegedly does and neither one of them costs eight and a half million dollars.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, they are called the human heart and the human noggin. When these two machines are working in a synchronous harmony they, too, can raise the frequency of human consciousness in both a personal and collective way. They, too, can cut through the mush and help bring forth the butterfly. I think Doctor Goofball isn’t as interested in helping humankind as he is in helping himself to a large chunk of eight and a half million dollars times a thousand. If he can sell Pummelhorn on his silly machine then he will become richer than Jeff Bezos.”
“Oh my.”
“It would be infinitely cheaper to develop an educational training system that helps people learn how to utilize their heart/noggin machines. This could greatly accelerate critical mass and also leave them with the tools to keep their evolution going ever forward. It’s not only cheaper but smarter than relying on some stupid gizmo invented by a goofball freak.”
Dr. Olivia Bettlesmith took another drag on her cigarette then with her thumb and middle finger she flicked the cigarette butt over the balcony railing onto the well-manicured lawn below. She then turned to go back inside.
Dr. Courtland Franzblau followed as he said quietly, “I had a feeling that Scootleberry, Wendovia sounded like a made-up town.”
Copyright by White Feather. All Rights Reserved. Thanks for reading.
Speaking of gizmos…
