EXCERPTS

The First Page.... It happened way back in 1989. After a single keystroke entry into a spreadsheet. A flash of light into a commonplace life. It was not as if I deserved to bump into that vision. But then, neither did I deserve the stubborn pressures of ongoing projects. Or to suffer the muffled chatter of backstage emotions. Daily routines, interactions with loved ones, the solution of problems, the usual quota of entertainment and making sense of the flood of information had taken up most waking hours. But running through all this was this fine thread of ennui. You needed to pass the time, while the whole world moved more slowly than the pace at which you wanted to go. The feeling of a sixteen cylinder car, running on two cylinders, through a traffic jam. During most of life. Was it sadness? No, not sadness. But no, maybe it was sadness. And a whole file pocket of reasons opened to justify sadness. Was it peace? Possible. Another folder opened to explain why the feeling of peace was just right. Or anger. A cavernous archive full of conflicting moods. Each in its own file holder. You opened the folder to reasonably explain why any particular mood just fitted. Once in a while, the opened folder even stubbornly refused to close.

Ah, yes. The spreadsheet. What was so special about it? It just had a simple program. Written to diagnose diseases. Far less complex than IDS, the final expert system. The program had yielded a diagnosis with a single keystroke. Diagnosed a disease from a list of diseases in response to the answer to just one question. As if the verdict was so obvious. Ordinary computer diagnostic systems usually asked many questions - far too many, not counting some stupid ones. As against this, a doctor could stride into a surgery and instantly attend to a patient suffering from a heart attack. He would not even have asked a question. He just identified the problem. Instant recognition. Mysterious. They called it intuition. So impossible to comprehend that Professor Carver Mead of CalTech predicted, that someday, probably around 2050, when technology soared to high enough levels, intuition would be discovered. Intuition was the most mysterious riddle of all. Instant recognition was a part of that enigma of intuition. This program had done just that. With stunning simplicity. Way back in 1989. Ten years before 1999.

A few Pages later. It had been a long journey. All the file pockets holding exhilaration, apprehension or sadness opened to partisan views. One folder made you feel good. Another made you sad. Depended on the one you opened. On a road that took you to odd places you never wanted to see again. Not exactly a joyful excursion through life, relishing each moment. Somewhere in that early part, before even getting to the highway, I had taken a wrong turn. A turn that led to a road full of hazards. Crazy or aggressive drivers who pushed you off the road. In the midst of the turbulence and conflict, it was books, which helped me past the gridlocks and traffic jams, down lonely lanes and byways. Those insights from human experience. Not big inscrutable books. Just simple ones. Like Dale Carnegie, in those distant times. Life was easier, if you were courteous and helpful. Books. Hundreds of tomes, which helped, insight by insight, to slowly and steadily take charge. Get off the beaten path. Take the time I found how people got intimidated. That wasn't from a book. It happened just after the mechanic brought back the Buick......

..... That lesson about the potency of intimidation related to this 1946 Buick. A dream of a machine, in its time. But, it came back botched up from the body shop. The sheet metal patch kerosene paned. The paint finish was, to put it charitably, dull. The choice of mechanic had been wrong. And the job had also swallowed our entire repair budget. Leaving behind all the regrets of a lost vision. After that crude job, that mechanic had the nerve to turn up, asking for more money! Pay him more? Ridiculous! But he just persisted. Irritated by his impertinent pleas, I went upstairs, leaving it to Joseph to deal with him. He dealt with people, including the oddballs, because that was his area. Then I saw Joseph come in. Surprise! The claimant for extra expenses left immediately. How did he get rid of the ham handed mechanic so quickly? Even though I knew Joseph disliked the fellow, there was not enough time for a dressing down. And Joseph was above issuing physical threats. Why the sudden retreat? While I knew he could deal with people, this was more like instant spaghetti.

....... there was something odd about the sudden departure of the mechanic. Why did he leave? I was the boss. Bigger than Joseph. More bothered too. And yet, the fellow had persisted in pressing me with his ridiculous demand. A few seconds with Joseph and he had chosen to leave. No threats. Not a harsh word. It couldn't be voodoo.... Why? It could only be something in Joseph's appearance.... Suddenly, I knew. It was just in the eyes. Joseph's eyes could glower. Within seconds of seeing him, the mechanic had decided it would be unsafe to press his claim. When you were angry, if your eyeballs moved a millimeter forwards, they looked threatening. (A millimeter back and they looked peevish). He had retreated when the skin over Joseph's eyes heaved up a couple of millimeters. Safe impudence had suddenly turned to cautious retreat. He saw sudden uncharted dangers.

Joseph's eyes had threatened. So, just the eyes alone could threaten! An interesting thought. I walked across and looked down at the factory floor. Picked the operator at the grinding machine and focused on him. One millimeter forwards for your eyeball. It is called a glare. Simple enough. Suddenly, the fellow started focusing on his job with unusual intensity. An immediate increase in earnestness. The job even seemed to need more attention. Could he have forgotten an instruction? You didn't have to shout, or argue. No words. All that from a glare. From 40 feet away. One millimeter movement of the eyeball could discomfit and intimidate most people. They felt a need to work harder. Or talk softer. If you were born to dominate, you knew it. You did not need to analyze patterns. Instinctively, subtle body language was used to intimidate. But if you were not born that way, it helped to know.