“Who the fuck is cooking?” he asked, turning towards the door as if the cook was right next to him. The sound of urine hitting the wall and floor ...efocused him.After cursing himself for making a mess, and then cursing some more while he cleaned it up, Mike went back to his room to throw on a pair of jeans so he could greet the mystery chef in his kitchen.“HEY! Who the Hell is in my God-damned kitchen? And why the Hell did you let me sleep in and miss work?” he shouted.He was greeted by the. I drew my circuit boards long hand and then scribed them on to boards I bought at a local hobby shop. After a couple of weeks of not sleeping, I probably looked more like a mad scientist than Dr. Brantwell but it was worth the effort.My Mind Control device looked more like an ornate necklace than the futuristic crown that Dr. Brantwell's team had produced. Signals were picked up from the sender's lower cortex, amplified and modulated for transmission, and then transmitted to the subject.After. More

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