Greg Kiser is happily married to a wonderful and inspirational wife, Serena, and has two beautiful children – Miller and Grace.
Greg graduated from Southern Polytechnic University in Atlanta with a BS in Electrical Engineering. Greg also earned his MBA from the University of South Florida. He is currently a Director at Cisco, a high tech fortune 50 multinational corporation.
Greg has written extensively for fortune 50 high tech firms in describing next generation networks and painting pictures of the true evolution of technology for the consumer.
Greg graduated from Southern Polytechnic University in Atlanta with a BS in Electrical Engineering. Greg also earned his MBA from the University of South Florida. He is currently a Director at Cisco, a high tech fortune 50 multinational corporation.
Greg has written extensively for fortune 50 high tech firms in describing next generation networks and painting pictures of the true evolution of technology for the consumer.
Book Title – inSyte
Genre – Paranormal Thriller
Format – Print & E-book
Released – May 13, 2011
Email – gkiser@cisco.com
Website - http://www.gkiser.com/gk/HOME.html
Purchase Links:
inSyte is a paranormal-thriller that according to Perry Crowe of Kirkus Reviews, is equal parts Crichton, Clancy and King.
It’s Tampa Bay and the year is 2020. Ex-Navy SEAL Mitch “Double” Downing discovers how to tap into the internet with his mind. His new inSyte provides transparent access to the sum of all human knowledge recorded since hieroglyphics. More than mere information – Mitch can see into men’s hearts and be all places at all times (easy in an ‘always on’ surveillance society with fourth generation tweets). Sort of like God.
If knowledge is power, Mitch just became the strongest man in the world.
But inSyte has ideas of its own as the software exposes a politician’s “divine” plan that will unwittingly slaughter millions of people. Is killing the man the only way to prevent Armageddon? The politician’s daughter would probably disagree. And she happens to be the love of Mitch’s life. Losing Kate would be too damn much collateral damage.
At the center of the conflict is a wolf-like killer who will stop at nothing to murder the ex-Navy SEAL. And Mitch must come to grips with inSyte’s dark side – a dominating addiction that soon controls his thoughts and places him on a steep slide to self destruction.
It’s Tampa Bay and the year is 2020. Ex-Navy SEAL Mitch “Double” Downing discovers how to tap into the internet with his mind. His new inSyte provides transparent access to the sum of all human knowledge recorded since hieroglyphics. More than mere information – Mitch can see into men’s hearts and be all places at all times (easy in an ‘always on’ surveillance society with fourth generation tweets). Sort of like God.
If knowledge is power, Mitch just became the strongest man in the world.
But inSyte has ideas of its own as the software exposes a politician’s “divine” plan that will unwittingly slaughter millions of people. Is killing the man the only way to prevent Armageddon? The politician’s daughter would probably disagree. And she happens to be the love of Mitch’s life. Losing Kate would be too damn much collateral damage.
At the center of the conflict is a wolf-like killer who will stop at nothing to murder the ex-Navy SEAL. And Mitch must come to grips with inSyte’s dark side – a dominating addiction that soon controls his thoughts and places him on a steep slide to self destruction.
Excerpts:
He watched a flock of seagulls move across the sky. A dirty gull in the lead carried some morsel in its mouth that the others wanted. They swooped and turned and pecked at his tail until he dropped the scrap. It landed in the water and was devoured from below by a school of pinfish.
He smiled at the silly selfish birds. They were like people in their behavior and conviction that the entire group should starve before merely the strong should eat. Responsibility therefore fell upon the truly bold to take what they deserved. Any real mother and, indeed, true creator would be pleased to observe the strongest of her children satisfying their appetites.
Predation, after all, is not violence. Merely the act of survival. To filter sick, weak animals from the herd is a vital part of any healthy ecosystem.
He smiled at the silly selfish birds. They were like people in their behavior and conviction that the entire group should starve before merely the strong should eat. Responsibility therefore fell upon the truly bold to take what they deserved. Any real mother and, indeed, true creator would be pleased to observe the strongest of her children satisfying their appetites.
Predation, after all, is not violence. Merely the act of survival. To filter sick, weak animals from the herd is a vital part of any healthy ecosystem.
Mitch felt an impact like a stick of dynamite going off in his shirt pocket followed by somebody swinging a sledge hammer into his back. He reeled sideways and dropped. Adrenaline flooded his body like a heavy drug as his central nervous system fired out of control and the outside world was transformed into a macabre slow motion picture show. A strobe light flicked off and on like someone beating a drum in his brain.
Then the pain stopped and he lost his eyesight and his world went perfectly quiet.
The world didn’t go black, more like a white out on a winter mountain. He felt like he was sliding down a soft hill, falling to whatever awaited him at the bottom.
He saw a shape and as he began to pick up speed he knew someone somehow shared this odd journey. He was conscious of his heart the way you might be conscious of your hand if someone held it. He knew who was with him.
“I’m coming to be with you,” he said.
“Son, I’m not ready for you to come home just yet,” his mother said with a translucent smile.
“Not sure I have much choice, here,” he said.
“You always have a choice. About everything. It’s up to you if you’d rather live or die.”
“How is it up---“
“And it’s not just you, now, is it? Goodness, no. You’ve got your friend out there who can’t make it through this without you.”
It was important for him to get a point across. He knew this was fleeting and he fought an overwhelming sense of urgency. “Mom, I still have so much to learn. But I’ve learned a lot, haven’t I?”
His mother’s spirit smiled and her aged eyes looked weary. “Not enough, I’m afraid. You don’t belong here. Go back and help your friend and you’ll see. God has special plans for you, son. Special plans. You will learn so much.”
He thought about trying to slow his descent. But the temptation to close his eyes and accept the fall was overwhelming.
Then the pain stopped and he lost his eyesight and his world went perfectly quiet.
The world didn’t go black, more like a white out on a winter mountain. He felt like he was sliding down a soft hill, falling to whatever awaited him at the bottom.
He saw a shape and as he began to pick up speed he knew someone somehow shared this odd journey. He was conscious of his heart the way you might be conscious of your hand if someone held it. He knew who was with him.
“I’m coming to be with you,” he said.
“Son, I’m not ready for you to come home just yet,” his mother said with a translucent smile.
“Not sure I have much choice, here,” he said.
“You always have a choice. About everything. It’s up to you if you’d rather live or die.”
“How is it up---“
“And it’s not just you, now, is it? Goodness, no. You’ve got your friend out there who can’t make it through this without you.”
It was important for him to get a point across. He knew this was fleeting and he fought an overwhelming sense of urgency. “Mom, I still have so much to learn. But I’ve learned a lot, haven’t I?”
His mother’s spirit smiled and her aged eyes looked weary. “Not enough, I’m afraid. You don’t belong here. Go back and help your friend and you’ll see. God has special plans for you, son. Special plans. You will learn so much.”
He thought about trying to slow his descent. But the temptation to close his eyes and accept the fall was overwhelming.
“Why am I here?” Mitch asked again.
“You are a most impressive young man. Of course, they told me you have this ability. Somehow you know things you are not supposed to know, yes?” Cheslov’s eyes widened in reproach. He reached beneath his coat and removed a long cigar. Snipped the tip using a guillotine cutter that looked like a worn, hungry mouth. Lit it up with a battered, gunmetal Zippo. Leaned back in his chair, took a deep drag. Exhaled a thick, hot, blue stream of smoke.
“Which is why you find yourself here. In my home.” Cheslov’s face saddened. Then he continued, as if explaining to a child. “I am sorry, young friend, to have to say this to you. That this is not a place a man wishes to find himself. This is not a room from which people live to see a new day. No, my friend, this is a room in which people take their last breath, see their last light. Hear their last sound.”
Mitch remembered a long ago camping trip.
Cheslov smiled warmly down at him. “Why were you meeting the Deter bitch?”
Mitch said nothing.
Cheslov raised the cigar cutter to his face and a raven eye peered through the opening. He smiled as he slid the blades together. “What was your intention?”
Mitch started the process of extracting himself mentally from his surroundings. He ran number patterns through his head to take his mind beyond the pain and the possibility of what the lunatic might do next. There was only one place this was heading.
Of course he wouldn’t answer any of the lunatic’s questions. The best strategy to resisting interrogation is to simply not provide any information at all.
“Where is the file?”
Once you start to give up information, even about minor unrelated topics, it’s hard to stop and easier to give up important information. The answers to the current questions didn’t matter in the least. The only thing that mattered was to protect Kate. At any cost.
“With whom have you shared it?”
Mitch said nothing.
Cheslov walked to the head of the bed and slowly examined Mitch’s fingertips.
“You wear your micro on your index finger. Painted with green resin. Quite the fashion statement. To whom have you sent the file?”
Mitch said nothing.
Cheslov grasped Mitch’s left hand and held it the way a man might hold the hand of his son. Mitch felt a softness to the giant’s touch.
“Why do you not answer? Are you afraid?” Cheslov gazed down at him with a not unkind expression. The giant’s thick, dark eyebrows rose as if trying to coax Mitch to speak.
Mitch said nothing.
“I’ll ask you once more,” Cheslov said and a note of sadness crept into his voice. The hesitant father who does not wish to punish but is left no choice. “You have nothing to gain by continuing your silence. And quite a bit to lose. Yes, quite a bit.”
Mitch stared at the overhead ceiling. Focused on the intricate wood carving.
Cheslov spread Mitch’s fingers.
Mitch said nothing.
“Tell me. With whom have you shared the file?”
Mitch said nothing.
“Enough of these games,” Cheslov said.
“You are a most impressive young man. Of course, they told me you have this ability. Somehow you know things you are not supposed to know, yes?” Cheslov’s eyes widened in reproach. He reached beneath his coat and removed a long cigar. Snipped the tip using a guillotine cutter that looked like a worn, hungry mouth. Lit it up with a battered, gunmetal Zippo. Leaned back in his chair, took a deep drag. Exhaled a thick, hot, blue stream of smoke.
“Which is why you find yourself here. In my home.” Cheslov’s face saddened. Then he continued, as if explaining to a child. “I am sorry, young friend, to have to say this to you. That this is not a place a man wishes to find himself. This is not a room from which people live to see a new day. No, my friend, this is a room in which people take their last breath, see their last light. Hear their last sound.”
Mitch remembered a long ago camping trip.
Cheslov smiled warmly down at him. “Why were you meeting the Deter bitch?”
Mitch said nothing.
Cheslov raised the cigar cutter to his face and a raven eye peered through the opening. He smiled as he slid the blades together. “What was your intention?”
Mitch started the process of extracting himself mentally from his surroundings. He ran number patterns through his head to take his mind beyond the pain and the possibility of what the lunatic might do next. There was only one place this was heading.
Of course he wouldn’t answer any of the lunatic’s questions. The best strategy to resisting interrogation is to simply not provide any information at all.
“Where is the file?”
Once you start to give up information, even about minor unrelated topics, it’s hard to stop and easier to give up important information. The answers to the current questions didn’t matter in the least. The only thing that mattered was to protect Kate. At any cost.
“With whom have you shared it?”
Mitch said nothing.
Cheslov walked to the head of the bed and slowly examined Mitch’s fingertips.
“You wear your micro on your index finger. Painted with green resin. Quite the fashion statement. To whom have you sent the file?”
Mitch said nothing.
Cheslov grasped Mitch’s left hand and held it the way a man might hold the hand of his son. Mitch felt a softness to the giant’s touch.
“Why do you not answer? Are you afraid?” Cheslov gazed down at him with a not unkind expression. The giant’s thick, dark eyebrows rose as if trying to coax Mitch to speak.
Mitch said nothing.
“I’ll ask you once more,” Cheslov said and a note of sadness crept into his voice. The hesitant father who does not wish to punish but is left no choice. “You have nothing to gain by continuing your silence. And quite a bit to lose. Yes, quite a bit.”
Mitch stared at the overhead ceiling. Focused on the intricate wood carving.
Cheslov spread Mitch’s fingers.
Mitch said nothing.
“Tell me. With whom have you shared the file?”
Mitch said nothing.
“Enough of these games,” Cheslov said.
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