Max Malone has developed a portable device that directly influences the emotional state of human beings. He calls it "Emby" (for M.B = mind beam). It sends a stream of electromagnetic pulses from the transmitter to the individual being targeted. The individual suddenly finds themselves engulfed with a prescribed emotion, which, depending on the device's settings, can be either extremely pleasant or exceedingly disturbing.

The project spawned from earlier work Max had done while in the medi-tech industry. As a fresh-faced kid on the technoblock, Max had been responsible for birthing innovations at a rate unseen since the prodigious Buckminster Fuller, having, by the age of 21, patented a gyroscopic microscope, a remotely operated telescopic endoscope, and a fully-faired hydro-electric amphibious recumbent bicycle with an insulated hammock system in the back.

These days Max was known for being as wealthy as he was eccentric and intelligent. His house was carved into the side of a mountain, in the style of Petra, and each room was connected to the others via a meandering man-made river. His home became notable as the first subterranean compound carved entirely by autonomous robots. Once, when asked why he would want such a bizarre new home, he answered dryly: "Subterranean homes offer many advantages to above-ground dwellings." When pressed for specifics, he said "I can play music loudly and survive a nuclear war. What more could one want?" His "basement" looked like an olympic auditorium and was provisioned with seemingly endless supplies of laboratory equipment, including a hacked together fMRI machine, an ancient vacuum tube oscilloscope, and a decommissioned cyclotron. Once he programmed a lamp to follow him around and hold his coffee.

His previous accomplishments, though remarkable, amounted to nothing compared to Emby, whose creation required both his broadest expertise, and intuitive, almost mystical leaps of thought. He progressed directly from existing theory, but as the theoretical landscape grew murkier he simply floated above it, using his instincts and dangerous error prone trials. Max could sense that his work on Emby was of monumental importance, and he was beginning to feel nervous about its ramifications, the uncovering of which was becoming a challenge on its own.

Emby works by first recording an emotional state onto it’s local memory, and then sending the recorded representation of the emotional state to the target individual’s brain. It does this by utilizing a previously unknown electroreceptive quality of the brain's primary emotional cortex. Because the state is digitally represented, it is possible to alter the representation in the same way a photograph can be digitally manipulated. Max programmed an emotion studio, which allowed him to alter the emotional recordings. He named his file format .EMO, and the studio Felicigraph.

Max did not know what to do, feeling like he was holding Pandora's box. The powerful device could be wielded unethically, creating a potential instrument of unspeakable horror. Therefore, he began by sharing his discovery with his most trusted friend and closest intellectual peer, John “Qwerty” Egglington, a young PHD candidate with an easy-going conversational manner.

They met in the park, under some hush and secrecy, which was unusual and aroused John’s curiosity. Max’s tone of voice on the phone was energetic and explosive, though he tried not to reveal much over his most certainly tapped phone line.

"John, I’ve made something quite extraordinary. Revolutionary in fact! It could change the world."

"Is it round and does it roll?" joked Qwerty.

"I’ll tell you only if you accept your role as confidant with the utmost of serious intention. I don't want this to 'get out'. I don't know what to do!"

"You're scaring me a little, Max!"

"This is serious! Take the battery out of your cell phone, please. I want to make sure we're not being eavesdropped."

John, a little disconcerted, removes the battery from his phone and hands it to Max. This had become a common method adopted by the intelligent public.

Max continued, "There isn't anything wrong, yet. But I can't figure this one out on my own. There are too many variables, too many things that can go wrong."

"I will hold your secret dear, you know me!" replied Qwerty undaunted, as his insatiable curiosity overpowered his fear of the unknown.

"I just need to stress the importance of this. This is not the topic of conversation around the dinner table."

"I swear myself to secrecy with, as you said, the utmost of serious intention."

"Very well! I have in my pocket a beam-gun, constructed with off-the-shelf components, that can influence, in the short term, how people are feeling. I can make anyone within range of the device feel any emotional state I can record or synthesize."

A stupefied and disbelieving John looked at Max, whose face had suddenly changed from overly serious to wearing a grin like a Cheshire cat.

The grin convinced John, and he began imagining the potential applications.

"So, it works like a drug?"

"In a way it is the perfect drug. Variable power, no possible side-effects. Non-invasive and harmless to the body."

"Is it addictive?"

"Yes, most certainly. Anything fun is!"

"You could set up a booth at the circus! Charge two pence for a brain zap!"

"No I don’t think the circus is where I’m headed. I’m worried about the government, and people in general!"

"And rightly so! The battle to control emotions and minds, which you have now entered, has been fought fiercely for eons."

"If I release this into the wild, how will it affect society? Have I created a monster?"

"You wouldn’t be the first noble-minded monster maker in history. Remember Kio? The guy who made the botNET code used in the attack on the separatists. He just wanted a better way to share music, and ended up responsible for millions of gruesome deaths!"

"We need to weigh the potential good with the potential bad."

"So this thing is constructed with off-the-shelf parts, what does that mean? Anyone can make one?"

"Yes, the difficulty was in designing the damned thing, but once somebody has the design it wouldn't take more than an online tutorial to construct."

"So what you're saying is, if this design was public, anyone could alter their emotions at will?"

"Yes, quite, indeed!" replied Max smoking his pipe, looking much like Sam Clemens, "But not just their own, anyone's!"

"Tampering! Hooliganism! Chaos! My god man, what are the working limits of this beast?"

"My first prototype had a range of about thirty centimeters, and looked like something an optician would have in the office."

"And the second?"

"Once I had my proof-of-concept, I was able to refine the design and gradually shrink it. The current version is about the same size as a scientific calculator. In fact, it uses many of the same parts!"

"Are you sure there are no side-effects?"

"I'm quite sure there are no side-effects, because the electromagnetic waves emitted by the device are no different than the radiations emanating from household appliances and power lines. The breakthrough I made is in the transmitter circuitry, and the neural interface protocols."

"This is amazing, Max. You've outdone yourself completely."

"But where do I go from here? If this gets out, I will be the target of every crooked villain in the country."

"I see what you mean. Anyone could use the device as a weapon. Everyone from common thugs to despots could benefit."

"Yes, the garnering of emotionally-manipulated support is only the beginning, it would open many avenues for corruption, even torture!"

"Is there any way to know if somebody has been zapped by your mood-ray?"

"Nope, not even the slightest chance. The oscillations in the mind are the only evidence of its influence. The subject is almost always able to rationalize their feelings too, a most unexpected result."

"So if you zapped somebody feeling sad at the loss of a pet, they would look on the bright side and think 'one less mouth to feed' or something to that effect?"

"Yes, exactly! You catch on quick!"

"Thank you, I try. So you've created the first techno-drug, and landed in hazardous legal, moral, and political territory."

At this, the conversation took its first intermission, giving both men time to ponder more Emby ramifications. The birds on the power lines watched the men below, content somehow, submersed in the line's electrical eddies.

Suddenly Qwerty straightened up and exclaimed, "You've made many drugs obsolete! Why would somebody use a drug with side-effects when this technology can give a more intense high without the side effects?"

"Nostalgia? Habit? I don't know, but I think we're getting off track here. What am I to do?"

"I think you should employ your resources in defense first, then offense."

"I have an expensive custom-built security system and I employ armed security 24/7."

"Are you sure you can trust your security guards? Mercenaries are known to be unreliable."

"Yes, but these men are like sons to me, as I have personally intervened in their lives, so each is loyal for his own reasons."

"You're a celebrity in many circles, is anyone curious about your work?"

"I keep my business to myself. I don't even have a human lab assistant. That's not healthy, I know, but it's how I operate."

"Would you use your device against an intruder in your home?"

"I would have no ethical objection to using the device for self-defense."

"If you make an attacker feel ashamed, they may stop. So it has self-defense applications."

"Yes, but the result may be unreliable. I suppose there are people incapable of feeling shame, either natural or induced."

"It really wouldn't be ethical to use the device on anyone without their permission, unless it was in self defense."

"Is it a gun or a drug, or both? It is so powerful that, inevitably, the state would desire a monopoly on its use."

"So you'd be giving the state potential control over everyone's minds. I see your point!"

The two friends spent the rest of that night discussing strategy.

"Let's imagine how a super villain might use the mood ray."

"Well, a villain wants to hold hostages, torture, enslave, rape, steal. Villains are crude and violent and demand obedience over intelligence and honesty."

"That's the fairy tale definition anyway," jokes Max.

"Your little machine could be used to torture if it is used to send and reinforce negative emotions"

"Yes, but it could also just as easily relieve the suffering caused by torture."

"Our mood influences our perceptions, and our perceptions are used to make rational decisions, so not only does it affect mood, it affects rationality?"

"Yes, indeed! Feeling and reason are forever entangled."

"The potential benefits to humanity are certainly there. But, as you say, it can be made with off-the-shelf parts, so it won't take long before everyone has one. You'd never know if your feeling was genuine or influenced! I'm not sure I would enjoy inhabiting that world!"

John was showing signs of becoming nervous and agitated, as if a nervous contagion had been passed between the men.

"Well, as we all know, your new great power goes hand in hand with the responsibility to be just and good."

"Of course. We could start in conflict zones, perhaps helping refugees cope?"

"Conflict zones are by nature unsafe for operation. You would risk having the technology fall into the hands of a warlord or foreign puppet."

"Good point, but anyone who saw the device would not know its true function, if the secret was kept well."

"We could use the ray to make a lot of money, and then use that money for good. How does that sound?"

"If we opened a nightclub and shot the beam our customers, we could guarantee good business!"

"Wow, now that sounds like a business plan!" quipped Max sarcastically, "But there are many possibilities."

"You could get anyone to invest in anything with a device like this, I can hear them now: 'There was just something magical about his presentation'"

"I see where you're going! Ask for money, point beam, get money? Though that would make us no better than common thieves."

"I think some would claim that any influence by the beam is a form of violence, a form of personal invasion, regardless of how invisible or undetectable the application."

"It's unethical to make somebody happy? On what world?"

"But it's like forcing somebody to take a drug! It alters their perception of the world."

"We have to be careful here. If we really applied ourselves, we could change the world almost overnight. But the risks..."

"I think it would be safe to say that you need a team of highly respectable people to determine the best course of action."

"Every person I bring into the fold is another avenue for failure. Yet I feel a sense of urgency, as if I was sitting on a cure."

"In many ways, you are. I think this is one of those times when dropping everything is the only course that seems reasonable."

"I agree. Let's go camping."

***

Max chartered a plane to Monteverde, his most favorite retreat location, and they camped in hammocks hung deep in the cloud forest. Max had used his considerable funds and influence to save many acres of this pristine forest from the greedy maw of industry. Because of these very public battles, the locals have all but deified him, greeting him at the helicopter pad with gifts of jungle meat, spices, and marriage offers. He was responsible for opening an ecological center devoted both to preserving the habitat and educating the local population.

The two men parted from the village, well stocked with provisions, and headed the spot they had camped at previously.

An exceedingly large waterfall fell raucously into a pool of crystal clear water. Though the pool was not more than six feet wide, it had no real bottom, only a massive tunnel and cave system carved throughout the centuries. At points it was possible to resurface in the tunnel and explore underground chambers. They swam in the pool and hung in their hammocks until all the tension brought from civilization had been excised. At night fall they lit a fire and began to get back to the issue at hand.

Max reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a dark black plastic box. It's dimensions were similar to a block of butter. One face was tapered to indicate the output direction of the transmitter. This is the first time John had seen the device.

"Do you want to take it for a test drive?" asked Max. "I have a nice set of states you could try on for size."

"That sounds like a plan. I'm glad I trust you!" said John. Max pointed the device at his friend and pressed the "send" button. He had told the device via a hand held computer to emit the emotional state he recorded at the park from a young child playing on the swings.

The feeling was both subtle and all-encompassing. The beam's effect was to reorder his thoughts and amplify his sense of appreciation for the moment he was experiencing. He felt tingled and thrilled. He was both reduced and expanded to the sensation of a life of joy, removed from worry, he floated on an innocent peace of mind.

Max shut the beam down and asked, "How do you feel? How did that feel?"

"I think you know how that felt, Max. How often do you do that to yourself?"

"Oh quite regularly. I've had an addictive personality since childhood!"

"Is it possible to generate states other than those recorded? What I mean is, can you invent states of mind from scratch?"

"Yes, theoretically. But I haven't written the software that would be required. I think there might be some unexpected results though. I like the safety involved in only replaying sensations, because then we know they are safe and "normal"."

"Fuck normal!" yelled Qwerty, "We're way beyond normal here old buddy!"

They spent the remainder of the day trying on mental states and comparing them like fine wines. They laughed and reminisced like normal, but as the device switched its output pattern, their conversation would meander down different paths.

"We're viewing our world through the lens of alternate perspectives. Normally, a person is stuck with only one perspective. This device gives people the ability to try on new ones. It's like shaking up the snowflakes in those little blizzard bulbs and seeing a new thing every time."

John had been thinking about Max's space-based idea.

"Are you really going to put one of these in orbit? Why exactly?" asked John.

"I feel obliged to. I know that keenly applying this ray to certain individuals on the planet at certain times will, if strategically skillful, influence history for the betterment of all humanity."

"Who would you target?"

"I can think of a number of potential targets. Corrupt politicians, perhaps, could be induced with a great deal of shame and perhaps then obliged to tell the truth."

"Can this ray kill people?"

"No, no. Definitely not. It is not that kind of ray. Not even if you cranked the power. At some point the level of effect plateaus, according to my research."

"So the worst you could do is put somebody in a really bad mood?"

"Yes, precisely, but the true influence is unpredictable because of the number of variables involved. As you experienced yourself just then, the effect is subtle and is essentially a merger of your current high-level thoughts with the induced emotional state. This gives a great deal of leeway to the outcome of events."

"I think I might be confused. How are you going to wield the device and to what end? If you were to abandon your scruples, you could command an army with a sustained artificial morale! It would be a hideous abomination.."

"Wow, I hadn't thought of that. But it is another good reason to keep this secret to ourselves for now. I'm not sure how to profit ethically from this discovery! I'm not even sure if it's ethical to want to profit from this. Or if the best course of action is simply destroying the damned thing altogether! It's driving me mad."

***

The night after camping with John, Max was disturbed at supper by a couple of smartly dressed men at his front door.

"Good evening Mr. Malone. I'm Federal Agent Noonan and this is my partner Agent Umbria. May we come in? We'd like to have a few words with you."

"Sure! Come on in!" Max easily feigned cordiality.

"We've been tipped off by the banks that you've been making a lot of large cash withdrawals."

"Is that a crime now?"

"Well, you know how things are with terrorism and all. We have to keep good relations with our wealthy entrepreneurs. We want to have a clear picture of the world."

His partner interjects, "And you're muddying our picture."

Max understood the undertones in this conversation and chose his words wisely, "I have been working hard for my entire life and now that I want to reap some of the rewards of my hard work, I'm going to have to run all my decisions by the Feds? Surely you're not serious."

"We're all friends here, you know. So where is all that money going? Where is it now?"

"You have to understand how sensitive the high tech industry is to espionage. I can't disclose the details of my expenditures to just anyone! No offense, of course."

Umbria, the larger of the two agents, looked as patient as 10 year old at the circus. He kept clenching his fists and struggling to suppress a chronic twitch in his left eye.

Max wondered how close to the truth he could stay without divulging the exact details of his project.

"Well, as you know, I'm a scientist and a technologist and I need a lot of funds for my laboratory and its equipment."



