From: atmpas@vax.oxford.ac.uk
Newsgroups: alt.cyberpunk.chatsubo
Subject: The Inverse Square Law : Seven
Date: 26 Aug 92 11:15:00 GMT
Organization: Oxford University VAX 6620


			The Inverse Square Law : Seven
                        ==============================

	Mark started crying as the lift halted at their floor.  He didn't notice
at first, because he was absorbed by the tension running between the two 
executives who had smiled and chatted their way up from the ground floor.  

	Half of their banter was to disguise their hatred for each other, and
the rest was to hide the bottomless pit of contempt for their fellow
passengers.  Half of him wanted to mention it.  It would be good to say, 'I
know you loathe me.  Why do you think you can hide it?'  Then the mood suddenly
changed to a cocktail of pity and embarrassment.

	Even then, as he tried to work out what had happened, he didn't realise
until he felt the air conditioning blow cold on his face.  As he groped for a
handkerchief, he knew the reason.  Maria was still projecting, wave after 
sobbing wave of sorrow streaming out from the colour cell.  She was, as Malone
would say, ready.

	He allowed himself to be ushered back into the room.  The block had to
go back up, and the soft protest from somewhere inside made him gag.  His head
filled with the image of a light bulb, trembling under unimaginable pressure from
inside.

	'Hello children!  Did we have a nice walk then?'

	Mark swallowed hard and preempted Adam's slick reply.

	'Yes, thank you Mr. Malone.  It's time to bring ... the subject out of
the colour cell now.'

	'Good.  Adam, I think we'll have James talk to her for a while.  You'll
be our lie detector Mark.'

	Mark settled himself resignedly on a chair.  Adam stripped off his 
jacket and threw it, with the hat, across the room to lie in a crumpled heap
on the floor.  The tie followed, leaving a very different Weissman, his 
appearance dominated by a scowl and the black holster of his gun.

	'Gotcha boss.  I'll get the dirt from the bitch for you.  Bring her
out.' 

	Malone brought her out.  After two hours in the colour cell, it must
have been a relief.  Her makeup had run with her tears, and the mascara that had
set off the paleness of her skin instead formed an oil slick rainbow down her 
cheeks.  Her neat plaits were in tatters - she must have been chewing them.
The red rimmed eyes were even redder now.  The strain had been too much for 
them, and Maria's tears must have been blood for the past half hour or so.

			************************

	The interrogation lasted hours.  Mark did his best not to watch as
they took her apart.  All he had to do was speak up when Maria lied - which
didn't seem to be often.  It was delicate work.  He had to set up a kind of
model Maria in his head, one that felt everything the real one did.  He sat
behind his block and watched it, testing its reflexes and measuring its
pulse for the tell-tale signs.  Did it want to cover its face?  Did it make
him remember sneaking out in the night to go down into Madrid, even though
it made his mother cry?

	While he watched, the model screwed its bleeding eyes against the
blinding lights.  He watched the flocks of starlings and seagulls coming down
from the derelict tower blocks into the lengthening shadows.  It struggled
for its innocence in the face of James's chipped Polish as the sun swung low
over Warsaw.  Malone ordered stimulants to keep her from fainting, and the
model's arm - Mark's arm - stung from Dr. Taylor's needle.  The sun turned
crimson and set in the boiling West. 

	Finally they finished.  Mark pushed the bubbling ball of grief out
of his head.  Inside his head, he heard the crash of shattered dreams.

	'Well?', said Malone.  'Mark, _Adam_?  What do you think?'

	Mark wiped his eyes before he turned round.  That let Adam speak first.

	'Her story is quite simple, Mr. Malone.  She was a freelance beautician
for a while, and she used the products on herself.  She went bust from spending
too much on herself and from the Polish recession four years ago.  She had a
relationship with a J-Corp pooler for a while, but that ended two years ago.
That was how she came to apply to our pool.'

	'Too simple.  Mark?'

	'She seems genuine to me, Mr. Malone.  There's very little trace of
artifice, and she's such a strong transmitter that it would have to be the best
conditioning I've ever seen.'

	'Very little artifice, and it would have to be extra special 
conditioning.'  Malone spoke softly, knowing that he didn't need to express
his disbelief.

	Mark swallowed hard.  'Yes, sir.'

	'But not no artifice, and we all know J-Corp is good at conditioning.
They can do everything we can.'

	'No sir, but noone uses no artifice.  Everyone keeps something...'

	'Mark, get the moulder up to speed.'

	'Mr. Malone, please.  Dehli made a mistake.  It happens sometimes...'

	'Now, Mark.  And doctor, before you say it, yes I am over-ruling 
my psychics.  We have full DI clearance and I intend to use it.  Dehli wants
to know for sure whether J-Corp intends to extract Dupont, and I'll do 
everything in my power to get that information.'

	'Malone, I protest.  You can't just dismiss Mark and Adam's opinions
like this.  At least take some time to consult.'

	'I can and I will doctor.  I refuse to give the subject time to 
reconstruct its defences.  Mark's judgement in this matter is not impartial,
and yours is in doubt.  Adam conducted the interrogation as James and is not
reliable.  Was that a formal protest I heard?'

	Mark went resignedly over to the moulder.  He already knew both that
Dr. Taylor would protest formally and that Malone would promise to put it in
his report before ordering her to help with the moulder.  He barely heard the
exchange.

	The herb garden was dark, and the warm breeze brought him the scents of
rosemary and lavender.  Above the chirping of the crickets, he could hear 
someone screaming far away.

			************************  

	Well, the usual disclaimers apply.  Anyone managing to get this far
probably realises that the usual clientele at the Chatsubo would not appreciate
a visit from this particular team.  I hope you liked it if you read this far.

		- Paul Sherliker
Newsgroups: alt.cyberpunk.chatsubo