He shook his head. This was getting ridiculous.
"Just tell me. Anything might be relevant." Warrick didn't need to be intimidated — the point was valid, so Toreth guessed Warrick would accept it.
Which he promptly did. "Of course. My apologies. Kelly carried out the original project, along with a girl called Tara Scrivin. Kelly is — was — a neurobiologist. Tara is primarily a biochemist. A good combination for the research."
Tara Scrivin — the woman Yang claimed had spoken to Jarvis in the sim. "So what happened?"
"Tara became ill. Mentally ill. Dr Tanit maintains it was an adverse reaction to the sim. Excessive immersion, as she styles it. She and I differ on the validity of her interpretation of the episode." Toreth knew enough to spot academic knives out when he saw them, and that Warrick's statement roughly translated to 'I think she's talking shit'.
"What's she like?"
"Dr Tanit?" Warrick thought about the question for a few moments, longer than he'd had to think about other things. "She's highly professional."
Toreth smiled. "You don't like her?"
"We don't pay her to be likeable. We pay her to be an excellent psychologist, which she is." He smiled slightly. "However, as a matter of fact, I don't dislike her personally. We have some areas of disagreement, that's all."
Toreth thought back to his original question. "Why was Kelly disciplined?"
"Ah, yes. There are rules about sim access — how often and for how long people may use it, and so forth. Tara had legitimate reasons to use the sim for her work, but Kelly helped her to get extra time. Rather a lot of extra time." He hesitated, then continued. "There was an unofficial system in which people traded time, giving their allocation for one month to someone else in exchange for time at a later date, or for another favour. Senior staff, myself included, allowed the system to operate. It no longer does so."
"Because of Tara?"
"Because of the measures Dr Tanit put into place with the directors' and sponsors' approval. I have to stress that there is no evidence that excessive sim use caused Tara's illness; the causation might just as easily flow in the other direction."
"What, exactly, happened?"
Clearly uncomfortable with the question, Warrick hesitated. "Perhaps it would be better to ask Dr Tanit for the medical details. However, the practical consequences were that Tara was apprehended — fortunately — on the way to her ex-boyfriend's flat with a couple of large bottles of solvents, a box of matches and a note explaining that they had decided to die together."
None of this had been in the personnel files Toreth had seen.
"The young man concerned very kindly agreed not to take the matter further," Warrick continued. "SimTech naturally paid for Tara's treatment, until she was fit to return to work."
"You let her come back?"
"Of course." Warrick sounded mildly offended. "Once her treatment was completed and Dr Tanit was prepared to declare her fit there was no reason not to. We arranged a more theoretical project — analysis and modelling which doesn't require sim usage. We don't abandon our employees or students."
"A kindler, gentler corporation?" Toreth let the disbelief leak through into his voice, drawing a sharp look from Warrick.
"It's not our policy to throw fragile children onto the streets with a record which would render them virtually unemployable, no," he said precisely. "And she is a talented and hard-working scientist. The situation was unfortunate, and not her fault."
One word caught his attention. "Children?"
"Sorry. It's hard to think of her as a woman. Or rather . . . you haven't met Tara, have you? Someone once said to me that she made them think of fairytales about changelings."
Toreth had never read any kid's stories, and had no intention of starting now. "What do you mean?"
"Well, she — when you meet her, you'll see what I mean." Warrick sat up suddenly. "You're going to ask her about this, aren't you?"
"Yes. She has a link to Kelly and possibly some reason to hold a grudge against her. She's tried to kill before — "
"That's ridiculous!"
"No, it isn't." Actually, it probably was. A desperate murder-and-suicide was a far cry from two carefully premeditated, passionless killings. However, Toreth was willing to follow any lead that offered itself. "It's my job."
Warrick looked at him expressionlessly, and then nodded. "Well, I can't stop you."
No, you can't, Toreth thought with an odd satisfaction, but there was no need to antagonise Warrick more than required. "I'll try not to frighten her. Tell me more about this . . . what did you call it? Her project."
"Sense-memory stacking? It's one of the fringe developments of the sex side of the sim programme. P-Leisure have been very generous with funding for projects with a lower predicted success."
"So what's wrong with it?"
Warrick frowned. "Nothing. It's simply a highly technical application. It requires a greater degree of direct manipulation of the brain."
"Is it dangerous?"
"Not in my opinion. No more than any other part of the sim, which is to say that while it's in the development stage, rigorous safety precautions are perforce associated with it."
Sometimes Warrick sounded exactly like the corporate he was. "But you mentioned safety concerns?"
Warrick shook his head. "Nothing that could kill a user, if that's what you're thinking. Marian — Dr Tanit — has raised concerns in the past regarding addictive properties, that's all."
"How does it work?"
"The SMS?" Warrick frowned again, thoughtful rather than annoyed this time. "I'll add an outline to the technical summary for you. But — " He checked the screen. "The problem is time and space on the sim . . . ah."
He looked back with a hint of challenge in his voice and in his slight smile. "Perhaps it would be easier to show you than to explain. If you'd be willing to take part in a scheduled test, I could arrange a demonstration for the day after tomorrow — Friday afternoon."
Toreth weighed it up. He'd been in the sim before, of course, but that was before he knew about its tendency to produce dead bodies.
"I'll be in the sim with you," Warrick said. "I assure you that it's perfectly safe. No need to be afraid." Which I can see you are, he didn't need to add.
Toreth sighed silently. One day, he was going to get himself into trouble. Maybe this was the day.
"What time?" he asked.
Outside Tanit's office, Toreth read her statement through, and in the process found another reference to Tara Scrivin — she and Tanit alibied each other.
On the day of Kelly Jarvis's murder, Dr Tanit had left the building at seven-forty, confirmed by both Tara Scrivin and the receptionist — a slightly later than average departure time, according to the security logs. She and Tara had gone to Tara's room on campus and Dr Tanit had left there at ten-thirty. Consequently, the interview with her had been brief, and information about Tanit in the case file was sketchy.
The main point in the interview was that Tanit had called Justice about Kelly's death. She'd told Barret-Connor she'd had no special reason for making the call — it had simply seemed like the right thing to do, which was no kind of reason at all. Apparently she hadn't felt the need to consult with the directors first.
At the bottom of the interview Barret-Connor had added,
Don't let her ask you about your mother
. Toreth had told B-C before that if he absolutely had to put jokes in case files, he could at least make them funny.
Finally the door to the office opened. He didn't know the woman who left — a SimTech employee, presumably — but the tall, spare woman who stayed in the doorway he recognised at once from her security file.
She had light auburn hair, greying slightly, and pale blue eyes that now examined him thoroughly. He'd thought 'arrogant' when he'd seen the picture, and he thought it again now as she studied him, taking her time, before she nodded him into the office. She took a seat behind her desk, sitting stiffly. The firm set of her mouth reminded him of Warrick — easy to imagine sparks flying between them.
"I understand you have some questions about one of SimTech's employees?" she said as he sat down.
"Yes. Or rather, students. I want to know the details of Tara Scrivin's illness — what caused it, exactly what happened, her treatment, her current mental state. I need a copy of her corporate medical file, and any additional information or opinions you have that would be relevant."
Tanit shook her head. "That is medically confidential information."
"We both know I can have a disclosure warrant issued right now, if I want it."
"Then get it." Tanit checked her screen. "You'll be glad to know that I have no more appointments today — I'm leaving an open door for anyone who wishes to discuss any personal difficulties, or concerns about the sim, following Kelly's death. Come back when you have the warrant. Otherwise, don't waste your time — or mine."
"Dr Tanit, this isn't a game."
She stood up. "Patient confidentiality isn't a game, either, Para-investigator. I'm sure that you take your job seriously. Please do me the courtesy of believing I do the same."
Knowing a hopeless fight when he saw one, Toreth stood too. "Can you at least tell me if we're going to get two sentences into the interview and come up against a commercial confidentiality problem I'll need
another
warrant for?"
Tanit smiled slightly. "There is nothing commercially sensitive regarding Tara's treatment. Unless, that is, you count her excessive immersion reaction."
"And do you?"
She spread her hands. "How can I, when my contract says otherwise?"
He decided to wait until later to find out what that meant.
Sara promised to get him the warrant within the next hour, a time lag that might have been designed to annoy. Too short to make a trip back to I&I worthwhile, too long to wait and do nothing. There was no point interviewing Tara until he had the information from Tanit. Toreth called I&I, asked Mistry to meet him at SimTech, and then filled the time by talking to the systems team.
He found them locked away in a stuffy room crammed with screens. A SimTech guard on the door politely requested that he surrender his hand screen and comm earpiece before entering, which grated even though Toreth had agreed to the conditions. The news from the team — that they had nothing yet to link the sims to the deaths, and no immediate prospect of progress — didn't improve his mood by the time the warrant arrived.
Tempted to walk straight into the psychologist's office, he opted for the politer route of knocking. No need to antagonise her unnecessarily. And, to be fair to her, with the warrant in order she made no further protest.
The story she recounted was simply a more detailed version of the information obtained from Warrick and the released medical files, with the difference that Tanit placed the blame for the incident firmly on the sim.
As she spoke, he let his gaze take in her office — quite the opposite of Warrick's, with her desk clear and the few paper files neatly shelved. Personal touches too, which had been missing from Warrick's office. Professional credentials on the wall, fresh flowers in an ugly vase that had the look of an impossible-to-refuse handmade gift. Probably a childhood present from her son or daughter. Their photographs sat on the table under the window — both now postgraduate students elsewhere in the Administration if he recalled Tanit's file accurately.
It was unusual for a woman without a registered partner to be granted permission to conceive by the Department of Population. No doubt a psychologist would find it easier to pass the more stringent psych evaluation for solo applicants.
"Doctor Warrick mentioned that you thought the SMS might be addictive," Toreth said when she finished speaking.
"Indeed, although the SMS is only a more serious manifestation of a problem with the sim as a whole."
Finally, someone willing to admit the sim might be less than perfect. "Problem?"
"The sim is very . . ." Her eyes narrowed. "Seductive might be a good general term, although too close a focus on the sexual element is counterproductive. It gives access to a world that can be absolutely controlled. Somewhere there is no danger, no risk, no chance of failure. All wishes can be gratified, without consequences. To vulnerable personality types it can be powerfully attractive."
Perfect place for a control freak like Warrick, too. "So what happened?"
"In her personal sim time, Tara created a room — her boyfriend's flat. It included a simple representation of the boyfriend himself, which required a restricted technology she shouldn't have had access to. With those, she played out certain fantasies — destructive impulses directed towards herself and to him. She obtained more sim time than she was entitled to, and eventually her understanding of the distinction between her experiences in the sim and the real world broke down. I've written an unpublished case study about it. Dissociative disorder in a young woman triggered by immersion in an artificial reality."
"Unpublished? SimTech suppressed it?"
She shook her head. "Your word, not mine, Para-investigator. Its publication is not considered commercially appropriate."
"How would you characterise Tara's current mental state?"
"She responded well to treatment and I don't see any reason to expect a relapse now, although the stress placed upon her by current events is unfortunate. We've begun what you might call sim rehabilitation sessions — supervised reintroduction to the sim. She requested it. She wants to resume her work. I may have to rethink it now, however."
"How did she feel about Kelly Jarvis?"
"She was devastated, of course."
"I meant before that. Did she blame Kelly for what happened six months ago?"
Tanit looked at him sharply. "If you are fishing for suspects, Para-investigator, then I won't supply them."
Toreth adjusted the camera slightly, a reminder if the official nature of the interview. "Answer the question, please."
"Very well." Tanit spoke directly to the camera. "Tara did not in any way blame Kelly for what happened. If anything, she blamed herself for persuading Kelly to help her obtain access to the sim and to the restricted code she used. Kelly was disciplined for her part in it and Tara felt guilty about that."