The Transmitter: A Novel

He did not want to be obeyed. He wanted to be felt.Roland Vasile lost his father in March and his mother fourteen months later, and was very good about both of them. He never cried. He told nineteen people who meant the question that he was fine.And on a cliff in December, four hundred and eleven days after the first funeral, he had one thought clearly enough to hear it: nobody knows.It took nine years to build the answer - a phased array the size of a coin, under the skull, that does not read emotion but writes it. Four metres of range. Any feeling, at any amplitude, into anyone.He used it for love, and for money, and eventually for murder. He was costing an installation that would cover a country.And he was not doing any of it for power. He was doing it so that he would not be the only one.Then everything went black - and Roland found out what he actually is, what the eighty years were for, and that he had passed.