"Doctor Warrick mentioned that. And also that you suggested new measures to improve safety, which the sponsors approved."
"Indeed. They don't listen to my concerns very often — hardly ever, in fact. However, a psychotic episode finally caught their attention. "She smiled sourly." After I hammered the point home for some time. Perhaps they were worried about the mental health of their expensive investments. They twisted the directors' arms and persuaded them to make some concessions and give me more supervisory powers."
"What can you do?"
"I can interview any heavy sim user at any time, and suspend them from work in the sim if I find it appropriate. The standard interval is four weeks. I would have preferred to make it shorter, but the authority to insist on the sessions didn't come with a budget for the extra assistants required to make that possible. I interview and re-evaluate users of the off-site machines as well, at the same intervals. I try to speak to new recruits once every week at least, until I feel they are unlikely to be at risk. To compensate for this, the more experienced senior staff often slip to meetings every six weeks, or even longer."
"How often do you ban people?"
No hesitation in her reply. "Oh, there are usually two or three suspensions a month."
He blinked. "That many?"
"I prefer to operate on a precautionary basis. Most early signs of dependency or excessive immersion resolve spontaneously after a few days' or occasionally weeks' withdrawal from the sim. Easily manageable when I can control access to all the machines in the world."
Sparks flying from that grinding axe. "And is it enough? Could what happened to Tara happen again?"
"I freely admit the safeguards are adequate — if rigorously enforced — to prevent a repetition of the events." She smiled slightly. "Something I've learned here from working with programmers, Para-investigator — do you know why most estimates for project completion dates are underestimates?"
He considered. "Because people say what their bosses want to hear?"
That produced the first real smile of the interview. "Indeed. But apart from that excellent observation?"
The answer was obvious from the context. "Because only the time needed to solve the known problems can be included in the estimate. But there are always a host of unknown ones."
"Exactly. As with estimates, so with safety precautions." Tanit hesitated. "May I be present while you question Tara?"
"No."
She nodded, clearly expecting the answer. The very fact that she accepted it without protest made him add, "I'll be as careful as I can."
"Thank you."
That over, he decided to pursue the question of the sim's safety with the one person who seemed willing to consider it. "What do you think of Doctor Warrick?"
Tanit hesitated — not as long as Warrick had, but long enough. "He's a very intelligent man, and he makes an excellent corporate. Many technical people don't."
"No flaws at all?"
Another silence before she replied, "If he has a flaw, I would say it was overattachment to his own work. But that's a failing we all suffer from, to some degree."
"Do you think the sim is killing people?"
Tanit took a deep breath, held it, and let it out on a long sigh. "Do you know that there is a clause in our contracts with SimTech that prohibits us from discussing the sim, the principles behind it, the hardware, software, or, in fact, anything about it at all? Also from revealing, by direct description or implication or inference, the functionality of the technology or — " her voice slowed deliberately, " — any problems with it?"
Toreth nodded. Standard corporation contract terms.
Calling up something on her screen — presumably the contract — she turned the screen towards him. "The financial penalties are quite severe, and include unlimited liability for any damage to the corporation."
He didn't bother to read the screen, although it was interesting that she'd had it ready to hand. "That doesn't apply during an investigation."
Tanit turned the screen back towards her and leaned back in her chair. "I would be interested to see the legal basis for that statement, Para-investigator."
"I — " Toreth stopped. He'd said those words so many times, with such confidence, but never in quite these circumstances. I&I cases didn't normally involve questions of product safety. There
had
to be a legal instrument that put I&I over corporate contracts. Didn't there? He'd have to tell Sara to check it out.
Tanit continued, unsmiling. "So, you may find people unhelpful over that question."
"What do you think?"
"I think —" She glanced at the camera, but he didn't move to turn it off. "I think that, while we have made tremendous progress in understanding the functions of the brain and nervous system, there is still a great deal we don't know."
"You think it killed them?"
"I don't believe that all the safety aspects of the sim are being investigated as rigorously as they might be."
"But do you think it killed them?" Toreth repeated.
Her expression didn't flicker. "If that was your ultimate conclusion, it wouldn't surprise me."
Toreth shook his head. "They'll get you on inference, you know."
"Possibly." Tanit sighed again, and for a moment she looked older — tired and depressed.
If Toreth's job had that effect on him, he'd have started seriously scrutinising the
JAPI
long ago. "Why are you still working here, if you think the thing's dangerous?"
That produced another hesitation, although a brief one. "Would it be good for SimTech if all its employees thought the sim was infallible?"
"I suppose not."
She shrugged. "I do what I can to promote the cause of safety. After all, it is in the long-term interests of the corporation for the sim to be safe. If it is to make a successful product."
"You think the sim will be successful?"
"Of course." She looked past him for a moment, as if contemplating the distant future. "It's a remarkable piece of technology, with a multitude of applications, and a multitude of corporations ready to exploit them. How could it not succeed?" Looking back at him, she smiled again. "Do you have any more questions?"
"No, not at the moment." Hands braced on the arms of the chair, Toreth paused and said, "Not going to ask me about my mother?"
Tanit looked at him blankly, and then laughed — honest amusement that almost startled him. "Ah, yes, of course. Your charming young investigator. He seemed to be expecting something appropriately psychological and I hated to disappoint him. Well?"
"Nothing to tell." Toreth stood up. "Haven't spoken to her for years."
Her thoughtful silence seemed to follow him out of the room.
Mistry met him outside Tanit's office and once more led the way to an office commandeered as an interview room. The camera was already in place, and Mistry left him there while she went to collect Tara.
As soon as Tara entered the room, Toreth understood Warrick's reference to her as a child. She was tiny, less than one metre fifty tall, and lightly built. She had pale, almost translucent skin, scattered with freckles. Overall, she looked incredibly delicate and oddly alien — there was something otherworldly about her.
And she was terrified.
Toreth saw a lot of frightened people in the course of his work, and he could judge the tenor of fear finely. His first assessment was that this wasn't guilt — she was simply afraid of him. It wasn't an uncommon reaction to the black uniform of I&I employees. Sometimes it was useful. Sometimes, like now, it was a major inconvenience.
"Sit down, please," he said, putting as much reassurance into his voice as he could. "My name is Val Toreth and this is Jas Mistry."
"Tara," she whispered in response. "Tara Scrivin." After a moment she sat down, perching on the very edge of the chair, as though poised to flee.
"I know. And we have a few questions we'd like to ask you." Toreth found his voice slipping automatically into the mode he'd use for interrogating children. This is a smart adult, he reminded himself. Smart enough to win a prestigious studentship here, so treat her as such. "One of my officers already took your statement, but there are a few points we'd like to clarify. It won't take long."
The extra reassurance didn't seem to be helping. Then it hit him. She was almost certainly afraid he was going to do exactly what he was here to do — ask her about the breakdown. Something she had avoided completely in the interview he'd read. On balance, it would be better to go straight for it, rather than prolonging the anticipation.
"In your statement, you didn't mention your work with Kelly, or the reason you're having counselling from Dr Tanit. Your previous illness."
Tara stared at him, her light brown eyes wide. "Who told you?"
Interesting question. "I've spoken to both Doctor Warrick and Doctor Tanit."
As he said the second name, she relaxed almost imperceptibly, shoulders loosening. "What do you want to know about it?"
Toreth waved Mistry forwards and took a seat further away from Tara. She watched him intently, openly relieved by the increase in distance between them.
Mistry sat down opposite Tara. "How long have you been back at work?"
"Two months, full time," Tara said after a moment, her voice back to a whisper. "I came in before for a day or two a week."
"And before that?"
"I was at home, with my parents. And before that . . ." Her gaze slid away. "I was in the hospital."
"How long were you there?"
"A month."
Mistry nodded. "Did you like it?"
Following the string of questions with known answers, all meant to soothe Tara with simple factual answers, Toreth thought it was a bloody odd question, and not one he would have asked. On the other hand, that was why he'd asked Mistry to do this interview, because Tara very nearly smiled.
"Actually, yes. I know it probably sounds strange, but after the first few days, when I didn't really — " she waved vaguely, " — didn't know quite what was going on — after that it was an okay place. Everyone was very kind. SimTech paid for it. There's a good corporate medical scheme, and it covers the students."
She fell silent, but Mistry simply sat and waited. After a while, Tara nodded. "It was a good place. I had a lot of problems in my life. It could all . . . it could have ended very badly, but it didn't. It's in the past now."
She glanced at Toreth and then back to Mistry. "Before . . . I can't explain it. I can't even remember it that well, honestly. Everything was so mixed up, but very, very clear at the same time. I don't feel like that now. Ask Dr Tanit, she'll tell you the same thing. I don't blame Kelly for
anything
that happened." Her voice strengthened. "And I wouldn't hurt her, or anyone else. That's what you want to know, isn't it?"
Mistry leaned forwards. "We just want to understand things a little bit better. How would you describe your relationship with Kelly?"
"We were friends. I used to share a flat with her."
"But not recently?"
"No." She edged back a little in the chair, sitting on her hands. "I live on campus now. Since I was ill. Dr Tanit thought it would be better if we didn't see so much of each other."
"Did you mind?"
"Dr Tanit thought it would be better," she repeated, as though that ought to be enough.
"And what did you think?"
"I'd —" She shrugged her narrow shoulders. "I liked living with Kelly — and she said it was okay for me to stay. But it was one of the conditions of keeping my studentship."
"What were the others?"
"Counselling with Dr Tanit, changing the project, not going in the sim." Now her voice was almost normal — quiet, but calm. Either Mistry's magic touch, Toreth thought, or she wasn't hearing the questions she'd feared.
"So, did you mind having to leave Kelly's flat?" Mistry asked again.
"A bit. But —" She took a deep breath. "I'm grateful they let me stay. They didn't have to, and I wouldn't really have blamed them if they had kicked me out. I caused everyone a lot of trouble."
"What about the university?"
"Oh, them." She grimaced, freckled nose wrinkling. "They weren't so keen. But Dr Warrick and Dr Tanit talked to them and sorted it all out for me."
Toreth fought to keep the frown off his face. The amount of sheer bloody
niceness
in this case was beginning to piss him off. Maybe the resister-spread rumours were right after all, and the Administration was putting something in the water. In any case, there didn't seem to be much chance of finding an embittered homicidal maniac hiding under Tara's fragile exterior. Pity.
Toreth coughed and, when Mistry looked round, he said, "Before we finish, we might as well reconfirm her previous statement."
Mistry led Tara carefully through the day of Kelly's death, up to the time she entered the sim room at twenty past seven. No discrepancies with her previous statement caught Toreth's attention.
"What did you talk about with Kelly?" Mistry asked her.
"Nothing very . . . I think it was about shopping. The grants for the new quarter came through last week, you see. Then I went to Dr Tanit's office and we went back to my room together."
"Why did Dr Tanit go to your room?"
"We had a session booked for last thing in the afternoon, but she had to cancel it. I didn't want to miss the rehabituation session this morning, and we couldn't do it without the pre-session, so I asked her to come and have dinner at my room, and do it there instead. She said okay." Tara smiled. "She's always very kind to me."
Not surprising, Toreth thought, when Tara was Tanit's prize example of the danger of the sim.
"A shame you missed the sim, then," Mistry said.
"Oh, but we didn't. I mean, it was booked early. We were in the sim when . . ."
"When Kelly was found," Mistry said gently.
Tara nodded, hunching down in the seat. "It's horrible," she whispered. "We were in the sim and Kelly was only down the corridor. It's not fair."
It never is, Toreth thought. And it always amazed him how many people never came to terms with that. He examined his witness, tears beginning to sparkle in her eyes. Time to call a halt, since he'd promised both Tanit and Warrick that he'd be careful with the girl.