Chapter Five The Genius

A Chapter by Neville

Chapter Five

‘The Genius’

I am not a clever man

Yet having successfully mastered the art of deception

I no longer believe myself...

Without one single exception, everybody involved in Jack’s so called ‘rehabilitation’ was astonished by his impressive use of language and ability to comprehend complex, even abstract concepts and problem solving capacity. Records indicate that his numerous proficiencies were way beyond any assumed chronological age and likewise, each observation was documented and each test replicated, over and over just to make sure. After every exercise, the eagerly anticipated out-pouring of clinical and statistical data would inevitably verify and reinforce all that Jack had been prepared to demonstrate or divulge.

Essentially it seemed, each and every result not only confirmed that he was an exceptionally bright lad, but also drew attention to his peculiar inability to experience any of those uniquely human emotions that vaguely resembled empathy, guilt, shame or remorse.

Without a shadow of doubt Jack Weaver was a truly fascinating specimen, but whether or not this was a testimony to Elizabeth and or the young Kitty’s teaching methods remained unclear. An imminent breakthrough seemed almost out of the question, with him remaining tight lipped and otherwise totally uncooperative.

What made matters worse, was the fact they all knew he would almost certainly never lead them anywhere, except maybe up the garden path, or toward another dead end. On the other hand, he knew every single one of them, was desperately kicking around in the dark, waiting for enlightenment to happen.

“Oh’ well, push a button, pop a pill and tick another box” he thought.

At that point in time, there was certainly no formal link or clinical association between some of Jack’s worst behaviours and any biological heritage he might have had. In 1958 the concept of bad blood, whether raised in the laboratory and intended for some intellectual debate, or in the pub over a pint, had no real scientific basis.

Genetics had not really advanced that much since Mendel’s original pea studies which were of course once hailed as one of the biggest medical breakthroughs of all time. And while the Russians eventually got wind of Mendel’s peas, under no circumstances whatsoever must they ever learn of Jack’s existence. The simple fact was, he never ceased to amaze or shock those who were paid handsomely to observe his behaviour and try to tease any small snippet of new information from him.

In 1960-61 the dawning of Aquarius was only just around the corner, but in the meantime, the science of behaviourism was beginning to reign supreme. It was no longer a secret that Pavlov’s dogs ceased to salivate to the sound of a distant bell when their cellar eventually flooded, or that Skinner’s rats continued to jump acrobatically until the point of exhaustion and long after the electric current had been turned off.

Science was therefore beginning to prove what the man on the street had known for a very long time, in essence, fear is indeed a great motivator. Whilst obviously significant, any associated research findings were infinitely less important to Jack’s current observers than the driver or motives behind his seemingly insatiable appetite for destruction. Or the fact, he did not appear frightened of anyone or anything at all.

For some time after being incarcerated, Jack simply refused to accept any form of physical contact without all hell breaking loose and despite being exceptionally well staffed, when he went off on one, it was almost impossible to contain him without resorting to chemical and even mechanical restraint. Not only was he incredibly strong, he was also fast and slippery as an eel.

Where he got his immense speed, strength and power from was anyone’s guess particularly since neither his general physique nor stature gave any indication or clue as to what his physical capability and limitations really were. Bank’s-Barking was among the first to notice this peculiar enigma and duly assigned a young female technician to make it her business to find out more.

Emily Scott jumped at the chance and was determined to both impress her boss and to make the most of her hard earned psychology degree. However, being more cognitively orientated than many of her contemporaries that would be easier said than done.

On one particularly memorable occasion and quite by accident, an unexpected insight into Jacks uniquely complex psychological wiring was gleaned when inadvertently asked to perform two separate tasks by Em and another technician simultaneously.

Amazingly, Jack responded by proceeded to write a grammatically well punctuated and credible full page account of his recent observations with one hand, whilst simultaneously sketching a remarkable likeness to Emily and her colleague with the other. For some reason though Smokey, as he was often called, was depicted with his head at an awkward angle and both eyes rubbed out.

“How on effing earth did he manage to do that” Em immediately exclaimed while trying to catch back the breath she missed, in absolute awe.

“Most definitely not the kind of primitive stickman I was expecting him to produce, but a genuine talent, to be sure.”

She gasped again. Knowing immediately they had stumbled on something special, something that defied not only logic but challenged everything that was then known about the workings of the human brain.

“Oh’ my God, what we have here is a genuine f*****g first,” she flushed.

Her initial elation was only short lived however, as she became more acutely aware on those rare, if not exceptional occasions, when a glimpse of what lurked within Jack’s head was achieved, there would be repercussions.

No sooner had the inevitable shock and possibly revulsion too been overcome and worked through. The nightmares would begin to arrive and have since become legendary. In fact, it was often said, they would invariably remain long after the retching and the pounding of the chest and the temple eventually subsided.

Not surprisingly, given Jack’s numerous talents, there were those who began to question the possibility of some peculiar autism or, an as yet undefined syndrome. And given the fact he had been raised almost entirely within the walls of St’ Caspian who was the patron Saint of Lost Souls. Such assumptions were considered credible, if not entirely probable.

But no, that was not to be the case at all. All the scientific tests in the world were clear on that particular score, and consistently placed him much closer to the point of genius, if not even beyond that point.

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© 2019 Neville

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barleygirl

Back to see if I can finish up your book today . . . I love how you use what you know . . . the classic advice given to writers. But what's interesting is how you are so playful in using your psychological background, not taking the science seriously & kinda spoofing the whole industry with your playful tongue-in-cheek approach. Most writers take themselves & their industry too seriously when writing about their profession! Great writing & rapt storytelling! (((NUBS))) Fondly, Margie