Mind Fuck, Manna Francis, Chapter Eighteen

The initial interrogation took Parsons an hour and three quarters. Toreth resisted the urge to spectate on the screen in his office– watching other people doing his job, even very talented people like Parsons, always drove him mad.

One can only imagine, especially since Toreth has some control issues and is a perfectionist.

Frustratingly, too, nothing is forthcoming from Tara Scrivin.

Parsons wasn’t apologetic, simply matter-of-fact. In the eight years he’d known the man, Toreth couldn’t remember hearing him sound anything other than calm and cold. His lined face and deep-set dark eyes were equally expressionless.

Again, we get this idea that there’s something a little bit… dead about the people suited to this role. And it’s fascinating; Parsons doesn’t come across as some kind of sadistic bully, he’s just… good at his job.

It’s interesting, too, how the characters in this universe are very much products of their time and the environment and its politics, and by the end of my first reading of the book, rather than going, “I hate this crapsack world” or being able to go, “Evil bad guys are evil,” I was asking myself, “Realistically, where would I fit into things in this setting?” I’ve only done that with a few fictional universes: the most prominent other one I can think of being J. K. Rowling’s Potterverse– and I love it wen I can get so immersed in a setting that I start considering stuff like this.

I’d even argue that what’s going on here is so well organised, and that there are so many protocols behind what they’re doing that it doesn’t even have the craziness of current-day situations like Abu Gharib where culture and a lack of protocol– but and end goal– reigns supreme. (Or even something more benign: the participants in Zimbardo’s infamous Stanford Prison Experiment– where university students were given roles of prison inmates or prison officers– weren’t actually given guidelines beyond “control the prison.” They developed their own means of doing so– which essentially came down to bastardisation, causing a whole heap of people in the experiment significant distress– and the experiment to get ended prematurely.) The system in the Administration isn’t unrestrained; we’re frequently reminded of the paperwork and protocol and justification required for people like Toreth to be allowed to take things a step further. They’re supervised and they have rules and bureacracy to worry about. It seems entirely different to soldiers torturing prisoners because they’re “bored”.

I’m not sure if that’s comforting or terrifying: the situations nowadays seem to be almost devoid of protocol, and hushed up when they occur– because there is public understanding that These Things Aren’t Good. In the Administrationverse, it’s almost as though the subjects get the chance to just ‘fess up before things hit higher levels, almost giving the upper-end interrogations a social function: as a warning not to step out of line. But in the same way that capital punishment doesn’t stop people committing crimes in the countries where it’s a potential penalty, the threat of dying at the hands of the Administration’s people doesn’t stop them from ending up there.

Which then brings in a couple of other considerations: what happens when it isn’t warranted, but the desire to get something makes the Administration keep going? Our generation has seen military campaigns continue even when they’ve looked doubtful (weapons of mass destruction, anyone?) with no real admission of “we fucked up and we’re sorry” afterwards: is this something like that on a micro scale?

And the big question: what the hell made the government decide that any of this was appropriate? It’s never explained, but it is fun to speculate on, especially since the government is so heavy-handed about dealing with minor offences like sedition… what the fuck happened to make this seem appropriate? And why have the public accepted it?

Parsons isn’t convinced Tara can offer anything, and advises Toreth that everything checks out in Tara’s story according to what’s on file for Tara, “bar variations for error in recollection well within standard limits.”

I love the way the workplace lingo is so believable, and there is an allowance for such variations. It seems a lot more practical than the current popular ways of assessing someone’s guilt or innocence (even body language is completely subjective, and can be feigned/ignored/detracted from… one reason Lie to Me annoys the hell out of me despite my love of Tim Roth): it’s like a more finely turned lie detection… so it’s believable that there’s not much margin for error.

Sign of someone telling the truth rather than well-rehearsed lies. “Damn. Well, there’ll be a level three waiver coming through, so you can see if she’ll loosen up for that.”

Parsons nodded. “Yes, Para. However, I should tell you that I’m sure I’ll be wasting a room booking. I can do her, no problem there, but she doesn’t know anything she isn’t talking about.”

Fuck. Exactly what he’d thought himself. “Are you sure?”

I actually quite like Parsons for his honesty and his lack of “I’ll keep at her with brute force if she doesn’t say anything.” But there’s something quite telling about the way he’s so casual about what he does: is it evil? Not really: like Toreth, he’s a product of his time and workplace culture and the lingo that gets thrown around so flippantly: and that’s something that happens in a LOT of workplaces where people are dealing with people and tense situations. I’ve come across police, nurses, trauma workers, prison officers and social workers who do it. Is it insensitive? Yep. Does it make them evil and inhuman? No.

Parsons nodded again. “Positive. And for once, Justice is right that she’s a fragile witness. She isn’t a wreck, but she isn’t so stable that I can fill her full of drugs and be sure she’ll come out the other end exactly the same as she went in. If she’s got good lawyers rather than a Justice rep, I’d prefer a level four, maybe five, before I’d even try the top-end level three drugs. Just thought you’d want to know, before I got started.”

And I really like that Parsons is prepared to let Toreth know this. I can only imagine how dangerous things could be if, say, workplace politics got in the way: Parsons withholding information like that could get someone like Tara killed– and someone like Toreth in a world of trouble. So far, things seem okay because people are honest about these things, and Toreth, in his own way, is fair– and no one really seems to have any vendettas against others and they’re professional about what they do.

Imagine if they weren’t. Seriously, that’s where things could get horrific. (That said, I wonder if anyone with such petty tendencies would be weeded out through psychological testing and the like when going for roles in jobs like this.)

Toreth trusts Parsons, and decides that he’s not going to risk wasting time with– or further damaging– Tara, and that he’s going to try “something else.”

Exactly what that would be, he thought as he watched Parsons leave, was a different question.

He checks out Tara’s medical file to confirm that yep, Parsons is right and she’s fragile, but annoyingly, Tanit has okayed her for working in the sim.

Shame she couldn’t have glued the girl sufficiently back together for a decent interrogation, too. Not much of a cure, from that point of view.

I shouldn’t have, but I giggled at that. I love the way Toreth is so focused on getting information that he drastically overlooks the fact that the poor girl’s a mess, and I love the way he’s so dismissive of psychology.

Toreth spent fifteen minutes searching through the I&I system, read a lot of things that stirred uninformatively hazy memories of interrogator training psychology courses, and decided he needed another opinion. He opened the door to the outer office. “Sara, do you know what a dissociative state is?”

Sara looked around. “Nope. No idea.”

There’s so much said in this section that damn, I love it: it’s a perfect example of how crisp and succinct the writing is, and it’s something I wish I was good at: we learn so much from this, and on a re-read, it brings up some questions: what sort of training do paras get? (I’ll admit: it sounds interesting, though this bit gave me flashbacks to my own workplace training!) Is there some sort of database with basics on it for dealing with and explaining things like this that still doesn’t give much practical information? And what’s the training people in Sara’s role- as Admins– get?

I like how Toreth isn’t arrogant enough to not seek out second opinions, and how he isn’t afraid to bounce ideas off his colleagues either. He isn’t afraid of or particularly interested in hierarchy: he seems to treat everyone as a potential source of knowledge.

There’s a bit of explanation here, and while I’d like to go over it all, I feel like I’d be doing Ms. Manna a huge disservice and probably be breaching fair use regulations, so I’ll summarise a bit. We learn about Toreth’s history with the Interrogation Division, and his decision to level up to Para. The role wasn’t always there, clearly the organisation needed someone who could deal with and understand the work of the interrogators and what they needed– but also be able to work on the investigations in a broader sense. And again, we get a sense of realness about the organisation: it’s a government division: they adapt and change and restructure as required.

Interrogation was a profession that had certain basic requirements. Primarily, the ability to hurt people, sometimes kill them, and not care. Plenty of interrogators had applied for the para conversion course, and few had made it. The successful ones were on the more socially adept end of the spectrum– those who could be let near citizens of The Administration without the precaution of a damage waiver. At the time, Toreth had heard the term “high-functioning” used.

Again, this makes me think of a few real life examples, and the example fro Oz that I offered in one of the comments on the last chapter: the description of the SORT team compared to the regular prison officers. It’s interesting that the Administration is so blunt about its requirements: it seems to be something that present-day workplaces aren’t so forthcoming about.

Or, as Sara put it in her less tactful moments, the difference between paras and interrogators was that the former weren’t so dead behind the eyes.

I love Sara and her observations. She’s so awesome– and beautifully observant about people, and she honestly comes off as one of the warmer cast members amongst the people in the series. And when put like this… it’s so easy to understand.

I also love that Manna Francis doesn’t make all interrogators one and the same– a criticism I couldn’t help but have about J. K. Rowling’s Slytherins for most of the Harry Potter series. Parsons is described as a classic example of an interrogator, but it’s quickly added that “they weren’t all so icy.” Which both makes perfect sense (good cop, bad cop partnerships are an effective staple of police procedurals) since different people are going to respond to different stimuli: at the start of the read-throughs I think I mentioned Hans Scharff who managed to get a hell of a lot of information out of people by putting them at ease and getting their guard down– rather than by scaring the crap out of them.

Toreth decides to ask someone more specialised for some insight on the dissociative state: Psychiatric Specialist Senior Interrogator Warner (I wonder what his training entailled?) who is very much one of the creepier and colder examples. He’s unimpressed to be interrupted in the middle of work, too.

He had a combative stance, legs apart, heavy shoulders braced, leaning a little forward. At the same time, his gaze kept flicking away from Toreth’s face, searching the interrogation room, before returning to glare for a few seconds. Overall, it left an odd impression of aggressive disinterest.

I love the use of body language. It’s accurate and so easy to visualise here. And Warner does come off as particularly old-school and scary: he doesn’t believe in it, despite his training (not really a comforting thought, is it?), writing it all off as “corporate lawyer-spawned bullshit.”

Toreth asks if it’s still possible, for Warner to say it sounds like Disassociative Identity Disorder, which is, according to Warner, more crap designed to get people off scott-free. But Toreth keeps pushing him, pointing out that he is an expert in the field, only for Warner to say that in theory, yes, though if all the symptoms check out, it’s probably a lot of shit.  Which… I can understand his logic. No one fits the textbook definition perfectly.

Warner reluctantly agrees that it is possible, though even though he’s seen the tougher nuts over his thirty-five years in the job, he’s only come across a very small number.

“[…] Ninety nine times out of a hundred, it’s someone spinning a line to get out of here.”
“How do you tell the difference?”
The man shrugged again. “Send ’em down here on a high-level waiver and I’ll tell you in a couple of days.”

Toreth’s already imagining the issues that’s going to cause– SimTech and their benevolence and access to good lawyers doesn’t bode well for him getting Tara down to Warner.

“If you’re that keen, send the prisoner to Psychoprogramming and get a deep scan done. DID is only nature’s version of the fast re-education crap they pull over there anyway.”

Oh-kay, um, fuck. This is the part where you go, “What the fuck is going on here?” But if any of you guys are fans of Blake’s 7, you’ll have a fair enough idea.

I’ll admit, the first time I watched B7– which was after re-reading the series earlier this year, and hungering for more, and knowing there was no more— I saw the first episode and kind of squeed and went, “OMG, Psychoprogramming!” I happened to be watching it with someone else who looked at me like I was batshit crazy. But… damn, I love the tie-ins between the series SO FUCKING MUCH. B7 left me in a weird place; I started out with probably a lot more emotional investment in the “bad guys” than other fans would have, given their resemblance to the people in The Administration.

Again, it raises the question of “What the hell happened to make dealing with people like this acceptable?”

More alarmingly still: there’s a waiting list for the services of Psychoprogramming. Just think about that for a moment… a waiting list. For people to get their minds, well reprogrammed.

Warner’s final comment is a classic, too, and– ye gawds, I’ve encountered doctors like this–

“Send her down,” Warner repeated. “If she’s a real DID, I can shove the results through the expert system when we’re finished with her. They’re so rare we’re short of comparison data.”

Is that the heartless interrogator talking, or the medical professional?

Toreth goes higher up for that access to Psychoprogramming, but Tillotson’s been put in his place. Psychoprogramming is for political criminals, not your regular garden variety. (Which begs the question of Holy fuck what political crimes are bad enough to amass a waiting list for this? and then Hang on, what does society tend to do when they hear the word “terrorist” or “pedophile?”) even though Toreth points out that Pearl Nissim’s death makes this definitely political.

But murdered  is, at the moment, speculation, and it could always be that tech failure killing people, even though it totally isn’t, which just makes the whole thing so fucking frustrating.

Toreth thanks Tillotson for trying, at least, and has some less than pleasant thoughts about his boss.

The man was a good waste of oxygen, Toreth mused on the way back to his office. In fact, you could take every Administration official at Tillotson’s level or higher and sink them in the North Sea and it would only improve Europe.

It’s lines like this which make me think “Damn, this is what it looks like when a writer really gets it.” That frustration, that complete uselessness of particular branches of management in government departments, and their ineffectiveness– and generalised inability and lack of motivation to fight for their underlings. (Something else I love about Toreth later on in the series.)

Not to mention violate a slew of intercontinental treaties regarding toxic waste. The idea generated a small smile of satisfaction, not least because, if you had the right kind of petty mind, it was treason.

*snort* I completely understand that satisfaction and amusement at breaking the silly little rules like that. And can only imagine the intensity of them in a world like theirs.

If he’d said it out loud in the coffee room, it could be incitement to discontent. It wasn’t, of course. He was anti-moron, not anti-Administration. Not his fault if the two often coincided.

*cackles* She so gets it.

But then there’s the issue of sedition, of course, which almost detracts from the humour. Rather than getting out and out slaps in the face of how extreme and harsh the laws are, and what seemingly minor things are transgressions, haunting little reminders are placed throughout the story. How do change even happen in a system if the people working at base level can’t express that it’s flawed? I’d suspect the higher-ups have the power to make changes– one reason why it’s a smart idea to get in with them– or that that system fails so terribly and obviously that change, or the appearance of change has to happen.

Toreth decides to use a little schmoozling. Good thing he’s a bit more socially adept than a regular interrogator (and that he has the motivation to solve the mystery). He decides to pay a visit to Psychoprogramming.

Psychoprogramming had been created at the time of the reorganisation, stealing experts away from many divisions.

Hehe. Totally believable, again.

Int-sec made a natural home for them, but they were one of the more clandestine divisions. Unlike I&I, they had no public contact numbers, nor access for private legal representatives to bother them over the fate of the majority of the unlucky citizens who crossed their threshold.

Of course. Again, entirely believable, and haunting, but it echoes so much of government organisations who do this sort of stuff. Maybe it’s not as scary as psychoprogramming, but… having dealt with certain government organisations who have branches like this: it’s perfectly believable. Only this time, we’re talking about an organisation that has the ability to destroy people… in a really horrifying, end-of-the-line kind of way. And even in the somewhat bleak, clinical and cold world of the Administration, Psychoprogramming is held in… different… regard to the other divisions.

(Colloquially, they’re known as Mindfuck. Which is so perfect on several levels, and of course which echoes back to the title, of course, not to mention the recurring manipulations and mind games throughout the story. Can I just say I love this book, people?)

Everything looks nice and new, in that way that the newness stands out even more when compared to the regular government buildings– something which annoys Toreth compared to his own surroundings.

Toreth suspected that one reason Mindfuck was so secretive about their techniques was to hide the fact that most of the time they did fuck all. If they were really so fucking busy, where did they find the spare budget for fresh paint and new carpets?

Hee. Budgetary issues. Or trying-to-impress-higher-ups issues?

We get some more insight.

Still, like I&I, the detention levels were underground, and they were probably noisier than the admin areas.

I love the way such a matter-of-fact description can still sound completely chilling and point out a similarity.

He passed a door marked Research, where a serious and heavily armed guard watched him pass. Toreth’s lip curled. Pretentious wankers. Who the hell were they expecting, here in the middle of the Int-Sec complex? Packs of armed resisters come to find their friends?

Of course, that detail stood out, and it’s interesting, especially since there’s… security issues… down the track. But maybe there’s a reason for either the visibility– or the actual presence– of security who could fuck your shit up in here? Such security isn’t just an actual threat, but a visual one, in the same way that huge (or little ones: I’ve known guys who will think nothing of a refrigerator-sized bloke outside a door, but will worry when they’re confronted with a small security guard, because, as one guy I talked to put it, “You can see why a huge guy would be able to win a fight, but you wonder about someone who’s little who can.”) bouncers at doors serve as a warning to not dick around.

Toreth’s smart though, and not easily put off. Locating Ange, the senior administrative assistant to the head of Psychoprogramming, he pulls out the charm, despite the fact that she’s on her way elsewhere.

Toreth made it a policy to keep on the good side of senior admins, whatever their division, and he’d been hoping for a better reception. Ange was a favourite because, as well as making a useful contact, she was married but not very married. That gave him an easy way to her keep friendly, as well as to fill the occasional lunch hour.

ROFLMAO. I love the fact that he is being smart about things (he gets that there’s a bit more freedom in the Administration’s bureaucracy when you know the right people) and also managing to satisfy his libido at the same time. And, oh fuck, I want to get all into theories and meta about Toreth and sex, but I’ll do that sometime later.

He sat on the edge of her desk, to get his eyes lower than hers, and gave her his patented admin-melting smile. She looked resolutely unimpressed. “I wanted to talk about booking an m-f– about booking a psychoprogramming session with one of your esteemed and preferably discreet colleagues,” Toreth said.

“So fill in a request and send it to Scheduling.”
“Ange, sweetheart…”
“No form, no session. Anyway, they’re booked up two months ahead for externals.”

Ouch. And… time. Something which Toreth is acutely aware of, maybe even as much as Warrick is. So he offers her dinner. Somewhere nice. And it works: a bit. Ange offers him a place in three weeks, which still isn’t enough.

“I need it now. First thing tomorrow morning I’m going to have corporate lawyers crawling all over me.”

Absently, she reached out and rested her hand on his thigh. “Lucky lawyers. But I can’t do any better.”

ROFLMAO. I like Ange.

Ange asks for Tara’s prisoner ID, but she’s not a prisoner, and Toreth explains the details–

“[…] She’s talking, all right, but I think she’ not remembering what happened.”
Ange’s eyes narrowed. “Illegal memory blocks?”

Aaaaand, things take a turn for the even more disturbing… because how the fuck did someone manage to do that to Tara? It’s like any technology, I guess: the government might have some things, but… so do civilians. And probably the only thing scarier than regulated technology like this is… unregulated technology like this.

Toreth explains that he just wants a scan to see if there’s anything there, not anything too intensive– to which Ange softens a bit and starts asking about damage waivers, agreeing that if Tara consents, Ange can get things happening the next day.

“This is just for you, Toreth. I don’t want you telling anyone else I’m a soft touch.”
“Cross my heart. You’re an angel, Ange.”

Aw. I love the way they interact here, the flirting and the banter, and I love that I’m curious about a minor character like Ange: she’s not just a gatekeeper, she’s interesting.

With that sorted, Toreth goes to collect Tara for the m-f– I mean, psychoprogramming session.

Watching the process, and nervous that Warrick and SimTech’s corporate lawyers could make an argument for gaining Tara’s agreement under duress, Toreth is also a bit nervy that going against Tillotson might get him in trouble. It’s only going to get worse if something bad happens, too.

“This is safe, isn’t it?” Toreth asked.
Seiden didn’t look up from the screen. Yes. As safe as it can be for someone with a history of mental instability.”
“Oh hell.”
“If you don’t want to know, don’t ask. If she has been tampered with, then it’s possible that messing around without knowing what was done to her could be unfortunate. ” He scratched the back of his neck, and then added, “That’s why the prisoners we get here have high-level waivers.”
“She’s a witness, not a prisoner, so be careful.”

Oh shit. Just something else to worry about, and again a nice description of how end-of-the-line m-f really is.

Seiden looked around, offended. “I’m always careful. Even with the low-life resisters that get passed through for reboring. Of course,” he added more thoughtfully, “that’s different. We don’t need a waiver at all after they’re convicted.”

Okay, we get a bit more of the picture now, illustrated by the language: resisters. Not terrorists, not criminals– but resisters, which opens up a whole new load of questions about what exactly someone need do to land in the division getting “rebored” as Seiden so charmingly put it. Again, a flashback to Blakes 7: we know that even leaving a particular area is enough to get someone in big trouble. But then again; language changes, and what we have here is a replica which has some vast differences– to the world we know. Perhaps tomorrow’s resisters are today’s terrorists. But then again, perhaps the culture in the Administration is incredibly conservative– and hostile to anything that threatens those values? (Again, a feature I understand is typical of government departments…) Seiden doesn’t seem evil, though: he does his job properly and takes care… probably more because he’s worried about doing his job properly than because he’s concerned about the people hooked up to his machines– which I’d say is a feature he shares with Toreth. It makes me wonder again about the suitability for their respective roles.

Toreth hums to himself– out of key– while Tara rolls into the machine– which sounds a bit like an MRI machine– and Seiden snarks about his humming.

“I play the cornet; bet you didn’t know that, did you? Jazz. Nearly professional standard.”

And just when you think he’s a bit inhuman, you get that insight about him. Also, I like that jazz still exists in the world of The Administration.

Seiden starts getting things happening, and explains to Toreth what he’s doing: essentially matching up the information Tara’s already given them with what’s going on in her brain. While that’s happening, he studies the machinery and considers what m-f means to his role– extracting information from people’s minds is his territory, after all, so it’s understandable that he feels a bit threatened– yet comfortable that the procedure is prohibitively expensive for most of his interrogations– so the threat it poses– at the moment– is largely an abstract consideration. Not to mention, there are still… screw ups.

Toreth leaned against the glass of the observation gallery and stared down at his valuable, vulnerable witness. Neural scanning, direct stimulation and manipulation of memories– the basic technology here wasn’t so different t0 the sim. Yet while Seiden was willing to admit to the dangers of the m-f, Warrick was unshakable on the safety of the sim.

And funnily enough: the mindfuck is like the medium between what Toreth does and what Warrick does. It’s a really nifty mid-point even though it’s underscored by the harsh reality that they’re living in, though side-by-side with the sim, the realities are similar: though the danger and the intent doesn’t seem to be. And comparing the two, you can see even more why Warrick is so protective of it.

All Seiden gets from the m-f is a few “anomalies” which could be data issues or something else: and that’s going to need processing, which is going to take time. And already Seiden has stayed back late.

Returning to his office– it’s late now– after seeing Tara off and dealing with calls from SimTech’s legal department, Toreth is interrupted by Sara. He asks her for surveillance from SimTech’s pharmacy given the issue with the injector– and points out that Belqola was meant to have sorted it out but doesn’t seem to have. Belqola’s still being useless, but trying to make it look like he’s staying back late at SimTech. Annoyed, Toreth asks her to tell him to stay there and that they’ll catch up.

Given that he’s already fucked up a few times, I’m cringing for the guy. I’m interested, too, though: Toreth clearly chose him, but Sara didn’t like him– and she’s quite perceptive about other people– and their failings. Of course, the fact that Belqola implied things about her didn’t help, but Sara is a sharp shooter who is good at seeing through people– and she doesn’t like him.

 

So, after hours, Toreth goes to the AERC to confront Belqola about his latest incompetency.

Knowing that he should have checked that the surveillance was in place himself only made it worse. However, nursemaiding idiot juniors wasn’t Toreth’s job.

Again, part of me is just wanting to see Belqola get his arse kicked because he’s fucked up so many times that it’s ridiculous. He probably could have gotten away with coming in late on the odd occasion had he not screwed up so much in other areas, too: it’s like watching someone you want to feel sorry for just dig themselves into something even deeper. It almost makes me wonder if Belqola is just not that interested in the job, and is subconsciously self-sabotaging and resenting where he’s wound up after trying so hard to get there. Underperformance in workplaces interests me, as do people’s tendencies for self-sabotage and letting the truth leak out one way or another.

Toreth didn’t make many mistakes when selecting for his team, and the failure was another irritation. So much for high fucking training scores. As he slammed the car door, he vowed he’d never again make the mistake of relying purely on those when picking new team members.

I like that there’s a learning curve for him, too, and that he’s good, but he’s not perfect. And… high marks aren’t always an indicator of success or competency. (Not to mention there’s always the possibility they might not have been honestly obtained.) An ex of mine who was involved in selecting university students for degree intake actually told me that marks were only part of the picture and that interest and drive counted for a lot more– both in his view and in a lot of other people’s. But I can see why Toreth would associate good marks with an ability to be fastidious about detail, to be dedicated– and interested– and possibly something of a perfectionist. While he’s never screaming it from the rafters, Toreth has his own perfectionist tendencies.

When he finds Belqola, he also learns that the guy has only just set up surveillance– talk about closing the gate after the horse has bolted– and is apologising.

“Sorry is no fucking good to me. And no fucking good to Pearl Nissim, either.” Toreth stepped closer. “Why the hell wasn’t it in place a month ago?”

The junior shifted his feet, but didn’t back away. “I forgot to arrange it, Para.”

Oh, burn. You silly little fucker. As they say: YOU HAD ONE JOB.

Toreth can at least appreciate the fact that he didn’t lie or try to fumble about with idiotic excuses.

“You can tell that to the disciplinary board. I’m sure Tillotson’ll be sympathetic.” He waited, but Belqola had decided that silence was the best approach. “Do you know what?” Toreth said. “I can’t be fucking bothered with disciplinary reports and turning up to hearings when I should be running my cases. I don’t need to waste any more time on you.”

Yet another reason Toreth is fucking awesome: I can only imagine how many power-tripping fuckwits there would be in an organisation like I&I who would LOVE the paperwork and cutting down of someone like Belqola, who, in all honesty, deserves it. But Toreth can’t be fucked. He’s there to solve his cases and get shit happening, and I fucking adore his work ethic.

Belqola perks up, only to be told that he’s off the team tomorrow morning and getting an awful reference from Toreth, and that he’s most likely got a career of grunt work and level one interrogations ahead of him.

Belqola, for  some reason, decides to plead with Toreth: I’m interested in the why, because he hardly seems interested in the job (maybe he likes the idea of ascending to a career? Maybe he just doesn’t want the shame of failure– he did have good marks, after all), and offers to do “Whatever it takes, Para.”

Toreth, because he’s Toreth, decides to see exactly what that means, and what he can get out of Belqola before getting rid of him, inviting him out for a drink to “discuss his performance.”

 

So, Toreth’s had Belqola buy a drink for him, and is listening to the guy explain why he needs his job: all believed to be fictional by Toreth. After their drinks, Belqola mentions needing to go home to his wife.

First time he’d mentioned his wife. Just testing Toreth’s intentions– it was quite clear he’d stay if required to do so. Toreth smiled indulgently. “All right. But first–” He looked over towards the toilets. After a moment’s hesitation, Belqola stood and led the way.

I feel mean saying it, but fuckit: this is fucking awesome. Belqola only has himself to blame, and hey, he accepted the invitation. Toreth’s just capitalising on the guy’s half-arsed bandaid attempt at fixing things, and probably enjoying the power. You totally get the impression that Toreth doesn’t even think of the guy as a team member any more, too, so there’s hardly an argument for him taking advantage of an underling in the aftermath of the meeting.

“Done this before?” Toreth asked. Belqola nodded. “Good. So I won’t need to give directions.”

Not that Belqola was much good at following directions Toreth has given him.

Turns out the guy isn’t completely failtastic at at least one thing, and Toreth enjoys himself for a few moments, and they leave afterwards.

Back at the table, Toreth sat. Belqola hovered by his chair for a moment, then said, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Para.”
“Don’t be late. And give my love to your wife.”

Okay, if it wasn’t already established that Toreth is fucking awesome, I think this is a perfect final argument.

But… something else is about to happen: the random bar? Is also the same one that Warrick has decided to visit– it’s near AERC, so it makes perfect sense– but in all the time we’ve been dealing with the investigation, with Tara and the m-f, Warrick has hardly been a consideration. And now… he’s looking at Toreth, which he’s finding unsettling.

Toreth wondered briefly if Warrick had followed them there. As soon as he caught Toreth’s eye, Warrick picked up his drink and strolled over. “Good to see the forces of law and order working so hard,” he said, as he dropped into the chair vacated by Belqola.

EEEEE! You have to hand it to Warrick: just as Toreth basically establishes himself as being completely fucking awesome on so many levels, and a total boss and as slick and cool and clever as anything, Warrick just casually rocks up and manages to do the same thing. It’s one of those utterly perfect moments where you just look at the two of them and realise that they’re so beautifully suited because they’re pretty much the only reasonable “competition” for one another like this: they make me think of my other OTP (Phoenix and Miles from Ace Attorney) who are so at the top of their game, and who balance out one another’s flaws and issues that they’re just divinely perfect for one another. They’re equal on a level: it seems like no one else can really match them in terms of their skill and just manner of dealing with others. And they’re both fiercely independent and just *cool*.

Warrick is clearly aware of what’s going on and seems to want to know about things.

“Just getting to know my staff,” Toreth said. “Harry Belqola. He’s a new junior– finished his training this year.”
“Ah. So how’s he enjoying the investigation?”
“I don’t care. It’s a job, not a hobby.”
His sharp tone didn’t scratch Warrick’s poise. “And how’s he enjoying the investigator?”

ROFLMAO. Oh, Warrick. *cackles* I can so totally see this filming beautifully, as well.

Warrick manages to get Toreth to give away what happened, to which Toreth playfully calls him a bastard and suggests he work for I&I in Belqola’s role. Which is so subtle and perfect: it’s clear that Warrick is damned good at dealing with people and getting things out of them in the same way Toreth is (again, they’re so fucking awesomely Miles-and-Phoenix perfect for one another!!!) though he seems t0 find the whole thing amusing rather than anything else: Toreth doesn’t like jealousy, especially not in these sort of circumstances.

Warrick sipped his drink and eyed Toreth appraisingly. “You didn’t really want him anyway.”
“How the fuck would you know?”
“He was too keen to go along with it,” he said judiciously. “Not putting up enough resistance. You could’ve had him over the table if you’d wanted to– more comfortable than your ten minutes in the toilets probably were.”

ROFLMAO. I’m almost wondering if there’s a twinge of *something* from Warrick, who seems to have shown a bit much interest in observing them to be not especially interested in him.

He noticed an attentive silence at the next table. “He’s married,” Toreth said, as if it made a difference to how willing the junior had been.
Warrick snorted, unimpressed. “I know. He hadn’t even bothered taking his wedding ring off. Which probably means he isn’t feeling guilty about it, either, and that makes him even less interesting. To you.”

Oh, snap. I love how perceptive Warrick is here (and would agree with all of his statements) and also how blunt he is about them, and I love the way that he basically takes ownership of the conversation by making it damn clear that he knows exactly what Toreth is.

“Big assumption from someone who’s known me for, what, five weeks? I thought scientists were supposed to consider the evidence.”

Ouch. Nope, not at all a touch defensive, Toreth. You’re revealing that your hand isn’t as nice as his and that you know he knows it.

“And the evidence tells me you like to play games. Particular games, at that. Tell me something, how often do you have sex with the same person, on average?”
“Once.” Toreth shrugged. “Twice, maybe, if–”
“Well?”

Oh, beautifully done, Dr. Warrick, but ouch. On one hand, it’s awesome that you’re thinking this much about Toreth, on another hand, part of me is raising eyebrows and thinking, “What’s it to you, Mister?”

Another fucking interrogation, but what the hell. “If they regretted it the first time. You’ve been spending too much time with Tanit.”

Oh, he has, hasn’t he: and you have no idea that he was defending you in there, either. Also, E. L. James, since you’re so fond of using the word “interrogation” to describe conversation: this is how it looks. Note how Warrick is sneaking in on him and getting him to reveal stuff he doesn’t want to? This isn’t the same as one character asking another “How was your night?”

Warrick spells it out: that Toreth likes it when his target is putting up some resistance (which: come on, makes things interesting, and means you have to work for things) and Toreth then points out that Warrick doesn’t exactly play hard to get… and that he has the sim, of course.

Warrick changes the conversation to Tara, and explains that she’s talked to Dr. Tanit at her place after Toreth offers something of an understatement about what happened. Deciding to capitalise on the fact that he’s in a good mood– and that Warrick hasn’t talked to Tara about what happened yet, Toreth asks if Warrick would like a drink.

Warrick brushes him off and changes the topic (playing hard to get or just wanting answers?)  back to the investigation. Toreth explains that his boss still thinks the sim’s the killer and that the coders from I&I haven’t ruled it out, and Warrick asks why so many of the files at SimTech are irritatingly sealed– it’s annoying the sponsors. Toreth explains it’s procedure and offers to have a word to Tillotson about it.

“Really?” Warrick sounded genuinely surprised. “Thanks. Can I do anything in return?”
“Such as?”
Warrick sighed. “Or, in the less subtle version, do you want to fuck? Or was your staff management session too taxing?”

ROFLMAO. Beautiful. Better yet, those people at the next table are still eavrsdropping.

A woman at the next table spluttered red wine all over her white and silver skirt. A man Toreth guessed was her boyfriend started to stand up with intent, took a better look at Toreth’s uniform, and at down quickly. Toreth stifled a laugh, because there was no point in starting trouble. Warrick looked openly amused. “That’s a handy perk of the job.”

Hehehe… I love it. Again, another one of those scenes that’s so visual and would translate perfectly to the screen.

They head off (Toreth winking at the woman, the boyfriend not happy about it), and start taking about hotel rooms, when Toreth’s comm rings. Unfortunately, there’s another hiccup in their plans.

Another body’s turned up. Toreth and Warrick aren’t the only ones feeling a bit annoyed and cockblocked here.

Mind Fuck, Manna Francis, Chapter Seventeen

Back in Strasbourg, Toreth and B-C have gone over everything… and found nothing.

“Do you read much, B-C?” Toreth asked.
Barret-Connor looked up from his own screen. “I’m sorry, Para?”
“Fiction, I mean.”
The investigator shook his head. “I’m afraid not.”
“Me neither, much. I used to read thrillers, until I noticed they weren’t. And mysteries. Of all the setups, you know which ones really pissed me off? Sealed room murders. They’re always so contrived, and yet here we are with three of the bloody things.”
B-C looked back at his screen. “Yes, Para.”

I’m going to go off on a little bit of a tangent here: I love B-C. For some reason, he was one of the characters I found it easy to visualise right off the bat, and I love how beautifully deadpan he is about everything. He makes Toreth look incredibly emotional.

And I love his exchanges with Toreth, too.

Toreth gets onto Byrne, one of the forensics, just before he’s about to call it off for the day, and suddenly, there’s something.

Anti-nausea drug traces have shown up in Pearl Nissim’s system. Interestingly enough, they weren’t prescribed for her, though: Keilholtz had even mentioned that he felt sick when getting out of the sim sometimes, and it’s his name on the prescription. But the anti-nausea drugs weren’t enough to have killed Pearl, anyway, nor did she have an adverse reaction to the stuff.

Being thorough, and good at her job, Byrne’s already checked the remainder of the batch from SimTech: nothing wrong there, unfortunately for the investigation. And nothing suss, either: the drug’s contained in single-use injectors, distributed by SimTech as part of their service that comes with the sim.

“The used injector?”
“No sign of it in the room– probably already in the recycling system, Para.”

Which makes sense: Keilholtz does not seem like *cough cough* the type of bloke who’d leave used things lying around like some characters might. (Refer to the most recent update on Shades if you’re wondering what I’m snarking about.) I also like that recycling is a thing in this timezone, too, and I’m wondering what the fuck happened to bring the world to where it is in time. Did people start getting serious about environmental destruction and waste– and if so, how much of the planet got completely fucked up before they did?

Toreth asks her to scan Nissim’s body for everything. Just in case. Because as even he says in a quasi-humorous fashion, he’s clutching at straws now, but an anomaly… is something.

He then calls Keilholtz, less than impressed that he wasn’t informed about the anti-nausea drug.

But Keilholtz explains that Pearl gave him the drug due to the sim sickness, and that he was completely unaware that she’d used it herself, and that he would have mentioned it. Turns out Pearl had used it on occasion if she was having ear issues, and that the SimTech staff were aware of it… and all of that checks out with Nissim’s medical records.

“When did the legislator take the drug?” he asked Keilholtz.
“Just before we went in, or rather, that’s an assumption. That’s when she gave me mine. I was already sitting in the couch. Just after I’d had the injection, the guard strapped me in.”
He paused, and Toreth prompted him. “Yes?”
“I don’t remember seeing her take another injector, but I can’t swear she didn’t. She would’ve had time to take a shot before the guard finished with me.”
“And dispose of the injectors?”
“Oh, yes, Para-Investigator. Pearl was very tidy.”

So it was Pearl who wouldn’t leave them lying around. Nonetheless, my earlier point still stands.

But the injector wasn’t linked to her death, anyway, and everything’s still looking pretty normal.

“How is it possible to have so many bodies and so few suspects?” Toreth wondered aloud.
Barret-Connor had been listening to the conversation with Keilholtz. “They are a bit thin on the ground, yes, Para.”
“People always get more popular when they die, B-C. Fact of life.” Toreth pushed his chair back from the desk and stood up to pace. “I’ve never met a corpse who wasn’t saint material if you believe what people tell you. Then you open their security file, and they’re exactly the kind of bastard that someone would want to murder. Or they’ve got ‘natural victim’ stamped all over them and it was only a question of who got to them first. Either way you’ve got to dig through dozens of suspects to find the right one. But these three… what do you think?”

Again, I love their conversation. It has a beautiful noir feel about it, and I love the way we see Toreth work through things aloud. Even if B-C is pretty much agreeing, we’ve seen Toreth do this a bit: with B-C, to a degree with Warrick, and also with Chevril. While a strong argument can be made for him just projecting, he also uses the opportunity to get ideas. Sometimes he just needs to verbalise around him, I guess. And sometimes, input from others helps him.

B-C doesn’t do so well with spontaneous opinions, though, and like the kid called up to solve a Maths problem in class when they haven’t been paying attention, he methodically shows his working when explaining to Toreth that as corporate supporters, they’ve both got ‘natural victim’ qualities.

“Killing a legislator is a hell of a risk, though. If there is a killer, they must know that. It won’t get covered up now, however big the corporation behind it. The Administration doesn’t like to encourage corporate sabs targeting legislators– the idea might catch on. They’ll be found and nailed for it, no matter how long it takes.”

So… despite the power money can buy you in this world: you don’t go killing people that high up on the hierarchy. It’s almost comforting to know that, especially the further into the series you get where just about everything seems shrouded in greys and the potential for discretionary measures and corruption. I suppose it’s a career perk of getting that far up the ladder, isn’t it?

B-C nodded. “So we’re back to square one: why pick Nissim?
Why indeed? “Maybe they didn’t.”

Keilholtz does seem like a more realistic target.

“[…] Killing Nissim brings you big trouble, killing her boy toy and blaming the sim gets you an avenging angel ready to take down SimTech. Hmmm.” Toreth thought it over. “Teffera took drugs for the sim. Maybe he had a contaminated injector too.”

It all makes beautiful, perfect sense, and funnily enough, he’s pretty much nutted it out by doing nothing more than having B-C listen to him and confirm his suspicions by logically working through things. Toreth adds, though, that Kelly Jarvis doesn’t fit the model.

B-C wonders if it was the sim, but Toreth is convinced now that it can’t be. So he goes through the post-mortem results for his three victims again, and wonders if they had any kind of reaction to the drug in common– genetic susceptibility? Vulnerability to the sim, maybe? The fact that the sim is all but a wild card in the whole equation means he’s not getting much back from the system because it can’t yet recognise its limits and capabilities entirely. And he can’t change the system to accommodate this.

Worse, the only people who understood the sim well enough to do that worked at SimTech. Asking witnesses and suspects to modify I&I systems was even less standard procedure than fucking them.

Hehe. I had to giggle at the idea that it even occurred to him. And I’ll admit, first time I read this, I was all, “Why can’t he and Warrick just interact again?!” and I’ll admit that it was not because I had this idea of them helping one another, but thought they were hot together, and was initially under the idea that this book was… pornier.

Yeah, I’ll admit it: I first read this book when I had discovered homoerotoc fiction novels on the internet, and buying books online. And since Mind Fuck falls into a class of its own, it got mentioned on a few of those lists… and a lot of the others in that genre… get fairly sexy. So my first reading of the book was… it was unexpected. But I got utterly seduced by the quality of the writing, and completely drawn in to the Toreth/Warrick dynamic. And the more we got to see of Toreth, the more I could identify with him …a lot.

Basically, the best things that have come into my life have tended to be happy accidental discoveries, unentirely unexpected surprises, or random decisions made on a whim– something I tend not to do– but it pays off. This series? Was totally a case of that.

Toreth spend a minute or so cheering himself up by imagining applying for high-level damage waivers on the entire SimTech staff, half of P-Leisure, and all known professional corp sab teams, and then cranking through the interrogations until someone said something helpful.

He’s frustrated, and god, does it show. You can see why it’s such a nice little fantasy for him– especially given that he’s not really sadistic– it’s an easy, brute-force way of solving things, because for weeks, now, he’s essentially got nothing. But he’s also smart enough to realise that he is in fantasy and that things don’t work like that, and he’s too delicate in his work to resort to something like that. Not to mention, I suspect it would take a lot of the puzzle-solving fun out of it for him.

Start with Warrick and the Tefferas, and work his way down the social scale. It might be worth proposing the idea simply to watch Tillotson turn purple. Pity that he wouldn’t get the waivers. Maybe he could arrange to have a few more Administration higher-ups killed. So far, producing a big-name corpse seemed to be all he’d achieved in the case. He snorted with laughter, and B-C looked up. “Para?”
“Nothing.” Time to get back to work.

I love watching his thinking processes. Love how as he goes further into his idea, he smooths out the details, shaping it, and you wonder if he’s getting more serious, and then he turns it ridiculous, has a laugh, and brings himself back to reality and gets on with the job. It’s perfect. And I love his thinking about it in terms of a work process– about things like Tillotson, about the “achievement” of getting the killer to respond by killing Nissim– rather than him just having interrogation power fantasies about, say, the Tefferas and Warrick, who clearly do frustrate him. Toreth is awesome, and I love his sense of humour.

He works around on the system a bit more, trying from the angle of “undetectable poison.” And whose name should come up but Tara Scrivin’s? Remember ….she was the biochemist? The only problem is that Toreth isn’t convinced she would have; he’s worked long enough in the field to know when someone’s putting it on, and she wasn’t– and she had an alibi for Kelly’s death, too.

While he had nothing better to do, he should at least consider an interrogation. The idea certainly had potential, although Justice (or at least SimTech’s lawyers) might make trouble over her mental state.

I love that Toreth never has absolute power the way a lot of “bad guys” in dystopian things do. I’m sure I’ve mentioned it before, that there are still rules in place for him– and procedures and laws and red tape– governing what he can and can’t get away with. I think that’s one reason the series has such strength: it’s toned down from the usual free rein that the “controlling people” get in… most other things. I mean– okay, I love the movie (the graphic novel didn’t do as much for me, I’ll admit)– V for Vendetta? The thugs working for the government got away with everything. While the movie suspended my disbelief, and I adored it, I still thought afterwards, “Those guys have got to be accountable somewhere along the line.” Part of the thing Ms. Francis nails with the system is that in order for it to work convincingly, there has to be some sort of boundary placed upon the rule-makers. They have to give the illusion of looking fair. Sure, corruption can happen, but in such an organised– and in some ways, normal– world, you can’t just have Sauron or Scar sending out the troops and demanding anyone who gets in the way get killed. It’s not a dictatorship, and the illusion of things being fair and fine sustains it for awhile, and, of course, makes it easier for regular citizens to just get on with their lives.

However, with Nissim dead, he had a feeling that waivers of all levels would be a lot easier to come by.

There’s that, too, and again, it’s perfectly feasible, but it still doesn’t mean he can break the rules too badly.

He gets onto Sara, and asks her to organise Parsons to deal with her, then turns to B-C and advises him that they’re heading back to New London.

Mind Fuck, Manna Francis; Chapter Sixteen

Remember when Toreth set up that nifty little plan to see if anyone close to him within I&I was tipping off the possible killer/saboteur, and it looked like nothing had happened?

Looks like something did happen.

The call for Toreth to go in to I&I came just after four on Monday morning. When he arrived, he found Sara already there. She stood up when she saw him, her eyes wide with excitement.

“Is it really Pearl Nissim?” he asked her, and she nodded. “Legislator Pearl Nissim?”

“One and the same,” she said.

Oh… fuck. While we don’t yet know huge amounts about the Administration yet, I don’t think it would take many calculations to realise that killing someone that high up the food chain is Pretty Fucking Serious Business.

Worse yet, Pearl was a fan of the technology: she was a fan with a lot of pull, too. And like the others, as Sara says, she’s been found dead in her sim machine.

Given the seriousness of the whole situation, Toreth decides to head over to Strasbourg himself—and now, getting Sara to make the necessary arrangements. Tillotson has already decided that his best paid team need to be onto it and over there, so at least he’s got full authority.

The murder of an Administration higher-up—damn near highest-up, in fact—wasn’t something a para got a chance at solving every day. Even less frequently when it was their fault. When he’d thrown out his bait, he’d expected another death at the AERC. Another student, or maybe one of the more senior staff. Legislator fucking Nissim? Better hope Tillotson never found out about this one.

I love his attitude; it’s so casual but quite clearly demonstrates—so subtly—that there is something very different about the way Toreth looks at the world. He doesn’t even notice the lack of guilt he feels about his involvement in things; yet he acknowledges his part in things—just not the severity of the outcome. To him, people are chess pieces, and, well, to win this particular game, too, sacrifices have to be made.

Pretty risky when you accidentally lose your queen when you thought you’d maybe lose a pawn or two though.

Heading over to Strasbourg with B-C, Toreth reads over Nissim’s file, once again detecting nothing out of the ordinary. Like Jarvis and Teffera, Nissim seems to be a likeable person with no enemies, and no shady background and no suspicious connections, despite her powerful position. She’s in her sixties, she’s worked her way up to her position over the years, and looks thoroughly clean.

And that’s the only thing—other than using the sim—that all of the deceased have in common.

Everything about deaths screamed either natural causes or technical fault. It screamed it so loudly, in fact, that it only strengthened Toreth’s belief to the contrary.

I love Toreth’s scepticism about it all being so benign. Most people, I can imagine, wouldn’t look any deeper than that, and you can see how in his field—especially since the whole case seems to be so frustratingly devoid of evidence—it would be tempting to move on and do something else instead. And Toreth has been bored enough to want that. But… he doesn’t want it to be easy.

They head to Nissim’s place of residence to find an unfortunately contaminated crime scene: Nissim’s body has been moved to the hospital, and the forensics people have already been through the place. Toreth sends his people out to get the evidence, at least, and looks through the security-heavy house. Given Nissim’s high profile, she’s living with security people keeping an eye out for her, though obviously they weren’t able to stop what happened to her.

Toreth recognised the first man they met inside—Clemens Keilholtz.

First time I read this, I knew I recognised the name though I had to skip back and find out who he was, though I like his inclusion here and found myself quite liking him.

The legislator’s death had hit him hard. However, while shock and grief tended to dull people’s expressions, in Keilholtz’s case they had supplied some character to his previously non-descript face.

I think that’s where you realise the gravity of what’s happened to him: it’s a beautiful description and it perfectly illustrates what sort of person he is: everything can be hidden beneath a cool professional grey, yet something as shocking and sad is a different matter.

Once again, he looked pleased—or perhaps this time, relieved—to see Toreth, and Toreth had the impression that the man had been waiting for him. Keilholtz’s first words confirmed the guess. “I heard you were coming.”

Oh, ouch. I want to imagine Toreth squirming like all hell because clearly this guy is upset and it’s kind of his fault, but of course Toreth is Toreth and he’s all don’t-give-a-fuck business about things and he just goes into his professional information-gathering mode.

“When did you find out about the legislator’s death?”

“I was there when it happened.” He said it with the unconscious ease of someone who hasn’t thought through what that might mean.

Oh gawd. I know I’m probably being weird here, but to me, that was just sad. You already know what he’s going to say, and why he was there, and he’s half just blown away by what’s happened and some part of him seems eager to hang onto what’s familiar—like Toreth—and being professional. But it’s still so fucking sad. And accurate. I completely get that sense of not 100% comprehending a huge reality like that: when my grandmother died, I remembered seeing a statuette of a horse (she loved horses) in the window of a gift shop about a week later, and automatically thinking “I’ll get it for her for Christm—Oh. Wait.” After grandfather died, even as we were leaving the wake thing held for him, I remember thinking about how surreal it was and how in my mind he could be back in the old people’s home where he’d been only a few days before. Death is an enormous thing to think about… moreso when you’re close to someone, and when it’s sudden, you have to get your head around a hell of a lot that you have more time with, if, say, it’s kind of impending.

“You were in the room?”

“No. Or rather, yes. Next door. We’d both been in the sim—“ And now he hesitated. It couldn’t have been more obvious if Keilholtz had worn an advertising screen.

“Go on.”

Oh, man. Dunno if it took Toreth a bit longer than me to get that one or if he’s just dragging it out to make sure he’s got the story 100% straight.

“Ah, there isn’t an easy way of explaining this, Para-Investigator.”

Easy enough: you were fucking her.

Toreth realises that Forensics have managed to miss that and gets B-C to secure the area and move on everyone else hanging around, and he and Keilholtz go back to Keilholtz’s flat so they can talk about things more privately. They sit down to discuss things, and Keilholtz explains that for the last four years, he and Pearl Nissim have been in a relationship and that barring a few close people, they kept it private.

“How old are you, Mr. Keilholtz?”

Keilholtz clearly expected the question, even if he didn’t welcome it. “Thirty one,” he said tonelessly. “Exactly half Pearl’s age.”

Keilholtz then explains that yes, that’s why Pearl liked the sim, but then elaborates:

“I should say– I want to say that I had no problems at all with the situation. I much preferred sex in the real world, to tell you the truth. If you haven’t been with someone in the sim, it’s difficult to explain it. It lacks intimacy. Perhaps it’s just me, but I’m always aware that my body is elsewhere, and alone. But outside the sim, Peal was, well, self-conscious. It spoiled things for her, and I hated that. So we compromised: we alternated between the two.”

Can I say here that I really kind of ship Keilholtz/Nissim in a huge way now? They just seemed like such a sweet couple. And it’s nice seeing a less conventional pairing just pop up in a story without there being any sense of weirdness about it, and Keilholtz just being so… nice.

I totally see Pearl as Helen Mirren, by the way. And let’s face it, Helen Mirren is kinda hot.

Of course, this is something of a reminder for Toreth, who gets his mind back on task and starts asking questions about what happened.

The house was empty barring the two of them– and security, but as Keilholtz points out, if they’ve done anything untoward, it’ll be caught on the video surveillance. Toreth doesn’t think that he’s a potential suspect, but still asks about what they got up to in the sim; he explains that had “a slushily romantic evening,” (in Toreth’s view) and then Pearl stayed a little later to tend the “garden” in the sim room.

“[…] I unfastened my own straps, stood up, I went over and–” He stopped, swallowing hard. Toreth waited. “I went over and loosened Pearl’s straps, so she’d be able to get out easily. Then I went through to the bedroom. I started running a bath for her. Then I sat on the bed for a few minutes. I felt a little sick, from the sim; I often do. When then bath was full, I turned the sheets down, put the lights on by the bed and–” He was crying now, making no attempt to hide it or wipe away the tears.

Come on, folks, this is fucking sad. Seriously, what a sweet bloke. Tell me you’re not even slightly sad for him.

Anyway, he expected her to come through… and she didn’t, so he went back, found her not moving, and then realised what had happened. Afterwards, he’d called security, or the medics (he can’t remember because he was in shock) and Toreth points out that he’d noted that her eyes were open– so her visor was up.

Nicely spotted, Toreth.

Keilholtz also points out that her left arm was, too.

So similar to Kelly. This was stretching the realms of coincidence too far, and the sim room here was secure as the one at SimTech.

When Toreth asks about it. Keilholtz says that no one else could have come and gone in the time that he was running Pearl a bath and that the room was locked only to them and that he had to let security in, too.

Then, before Toreth could speak again, Keilholtz said, “Do you know what was in the legislator’s will, Para-Investigator?” Toreth, who had been considering asking Keilholtz something very similar, blinked, then shook his head.

“I do.” Keilholtz’s voice was cold. “Pearl had three children, a daughter and two sons, by her estranged husband. Everything goes to them.”

Aw. You get the impression that poor Keilholtz feels like he’s trying to make a case not for himself as innocent of killing Pearl, but innocent of being a gold-digger. He explains that he gets the gifts she’d given him, and their letters to one another, and that he’ll even be leaving their apartment once the I&I people have finished investigating. He even explains that he gets along with Pearl’s children, and that they had no problems with the relationship.

“But I always wanted to make it clear why I was with Pearl, to her more than to anyone else. I couldn’t prove it wasn’t career ambition– although it wasn’t– but I could very definitely prove it had nothing to do with money. I never took a cent from her and I won’t start now that she’s gone.”

“I didn’t–”

“No, but you were about to.” Keilholtz smiled slightly. “I spend a lot of time in meetings, Para-Investigator, watching people think. […]”

*sniffle* So people are still suss about age differences in relationships in The Administration’s time, too? I suppose money still has power, possibly even moreso than it does in today’s world, so it’s understandable. But it’s sad for someone like Keilholtz who seemed so sweetly devoted to Pearl, yet is smart enough to realise that people assumed ulterior motives of him.

Toreth decides that he believes him, though will run the usual financial checks on him and see if the story with the will matches up.

“Does SimTech have any other champions in the Legislature?” he asked before putting the camera away.

So we’re back to that old idea about the victim being the sim– and by extension, SimTech– rather than the end user.

And frighteningly, Keilholtz comes out with this.

“Not that I know of. And certainly not right now. Para-Investigator, Pearl Nissim had a great many friends there. If the sim had anything at all to do with her death, I can promise you that SimTech is finished.”

Oh. Fuck.

We get a nice little cut to what’s going on at SimTech; what happened to Pearl has become news around the workplace, and they’re in a crisis meeting amongst the directors and the senior staff.

Warrick opened the meeting with a blunt question. “Do you think that we ought to suspend work in the sim?”

You can see why he’s doing it, but at the same time you can also appreciate how awful it must be for him to say that.

He expected a rush of responses, but the room stayed silent except for the low hum of the airconditoning, switching itself on to deal with the heat of so many bodies. Warrick looked around the table, finding all eyes on him. Almost all– Lew was staring down at the table, frowning.

Again, one of those moments where I sit here gnashing my teeth, going “DAAAAAMN,” because it’s so easy to see this all happening, and how much of a fucking epic series would this make? Yeah, I know. There’s not much of a chance of the BBC making a series that would cost this much and which features explicit gay sex with a fairly hefty side-serving of kink, where the cops are essentially the really bad guys (and does anyone want to imagine what the conservatives in the States would do if it happened? LOL) but damn it would be awesome.

Also, the first time I read this, my initial thought was, “Oh fuck. What the fuck is Lew Marcus up to now?”

“Three people have died,” Warrick continued. “Personally, I do not believe that the sim had anything at all to do with their deaths directly. I say that not because of my pride in my work, or because we can’t afford a delay in the program, but because I think it’s safe. I know it’s safe.”

He explains that he thinks that they’re under attack from people trying to sabotage them, and that in his opinion, closing the sim is giving the attackers what they want.

Asher agrees, pointing out that the sponsors would start to get even nervier, and that she’s been assuring them that nothing’s wrong with the technology.

Lew explains that they’ve taken all the sims outside the AERC offline and now everything in the workplace is heavily guarded; precautions have been taken, though Warrick’s wondering how the students and less senior staff are going to feel about working with it.

Since their resident psychologist is in the room, Warrick asks for Marian’s opinion on things, finding it understandably strange that such a vocal critic of the sim hasn’t already spoken up.

“Overall, I would recommend re-emphasising that sim work is voluntary. Forcing people to work with it would be damaging. From a commercial point of view,” she added, placing the words with precision, “continuing on a voluntary basis is the best option. If all work is suspended and staff believe that SimTech is going to fold, they’ll start looking for other jobs.” She shrugged. “Nothing you didn’t already know.”

Warrick agrees with this plan, and puts it to everyone that SimTech will go with it and let the rest of the people working there know about it.

Then he raises something else: someone’s been accessing test data.

Evidence he’d found while examining the supposedly closed files himself.

Of course.

“As you know, I&I has sealed all the data for the duration of the investigation. I do very much appreciate the efforts everyone is making for SimTech, but I don’t want anyone to end up in I&I answering unfriendly questions.”

And hearing him say things like that almost makes the company feel like one big warm happy family, doesn’t it? You can’t help but like the way he treats his fellow staff members; even though he’s at heart a pragmatist, he’s also actually a decent bloke.

But he’s not stupid, and he’s watching everyone’s reactions as he says it, and he tells them they’re to pass it onto their staff, too.

Meeting completed, everyone starts leaving, except Yang, who admits that he’s hesitant to work in the sim at the moment and asks Warrick for some time off. Warrick is nice about it, of course, but inwardly worrying: what  if they don’t manage to fix up the whole mess and other people join Yang?

The directors discuss it amongst themselves: after about two months, they’re going to have run out of money. Sponsors are withdrawing. Even P-Leisure are getting a bit toey and they’re ‘still reviewing their options‘ according to Asher.

She’s tired. They’re all tired, and they’re all worried. When Warrick notices Asher looks tired, ever the optimist about his company, he suggests that maybe after some sleep, things will look different in the morning.

Lew rose. “Well they’d better look different soon or it will be too damned late.”

Talk about ending that on an ominous note.

Mind Fuck, Manna Francis; Chapter Fifteen

I’ll open this chapter with a disclaimer: I love this chapter to bits and it works on so many levels for me. I love the dialogue, I love the hints we get about both Toreth and Warrick’s characters, and I think this demonstrates beautifully just how fucking good Manna Francis is when it comes to giving us characters we’re interested in and come to care about. We also get to learn bits and pieces about the system, too, which I also enjoy immensely because every little clue we get builds up to give us an idea of what the whole thing looks like.

 

Things start off with Toreth, nearly a fortnight after the “trap” had been set on his word, still having no progress, and his sense of urgency starting to speed up more. Either he gets this sorted and solved or SimTech goes down the drain. And he’s still got no more clues or information—even Liz Carey hasn’t been able to come up with anything, either, and he’s stuck, and frustrated and annoyed, and even Tillotson won’t let him shift onto other stuff—like interrogations—until the SimTech case is closed.

 

By yesterday morning—Thursday—Toreth had been so bored and frustrated that he’d called Warrick to take him up on his virtual offer. A sim session that evening had been a welcome distraction: fucking which he could charge as overtime, which cheered him slightly.

 

In some ways, Toreth reminds me of a parrot: clearly he’s intelligent, and quite entertaining—but he needs mental stimulation of some description, and if it doesn’t come naturally, he’s not above getting destructive on some level to get that. The idea of him casually asking to go back to interrogating people because he’s bored is so understandable and yet chilling when you think about it for awhile, isn’t it?

 

I also note the fact that he’s risk-taking again with the charging personal sex time to the Administration as overtime. Not sure I’d risk that one given the way that Tillotson is so pedantic about budgets and spending.

 

The whole case, he decided, was an evidential black hole, rapidly sucking his career in past its event horizon.

 

I love the description, and I love his pessimism.

 

In his gloominess and frustration, he decides to vent to Chevril, since Chevril enjoys doing the same to him, and he expresses irritation at just how squeaky clean everyone at SimTech comes across.

“Like I said, one of the directors likes teenage girls and that’s it. Turned out in the end that she was legal age after all. She hit fifteen two days before he fucked her, so

 

Wait. Hold it right there. While part of me wants to smile at the nod towards Brave New World I got from that, and another part of me is reminding myself that the age of consent in Japan is twelve and that given what raunch culture is doing regarding normalising younger teenagers being sexually active, there is still a huge issue here. We’re not talking about a couple of teenagers having sex with one another: remember the way Marcus referred to the “woman”? *shudders* But in all honesty, I wouldn’t say it’s at all unbelievable, and I like that amongst a lot of social ills being wiped clean in this future, there are still other issues—and ones which aren’t just relating to what the government is doing to its citizens, too. It makes things feel extremely believable and balanced.

 

And yeah, it might be legal, but I still think Lew Marcus is a slimeball. And I like that I think he’s a slimeball. If I didn’t, it would mean that I wasn’t convinced or concerned about him. I’ve read some fiction where the creepy/sleazy/awful characters are just so two-dimensional or dull—or their victims are so pointless that I don’t care—or worse yet, I’m laughing about their horribleness. Marcus positively makes me feel uneasy. This is what good writing should do to people. (And yeah, I know. I like Toreth—and am biased enough about him—to be not overly affected by what he does for a living yet Lew Marcus doing something which is probably consensual—and legal—makes me feel a bit queasy. [Might I add, and goddamn it, I am so tempted to spoiler like crazy now and I am trying not to so I hope people who have read the series know what I’m talking about– that it makes me wonder about a later relationship with an underage person referred to in one of the stories in Control. Would that, dubious and so obviously an abuse of power as it was—have still been legal?])

 

the best I’ve got there is obstruction, and I can’t be bothered processing that, not with corporate lawyers swarming all over.”

 

Part of me giggled at that, because I’m pretty sure in some level of hell for public servants, there are mounds and mounds of things to be filed and cases to be assembled and reports to be made about barely relevant things which are potentially side-tracking a case.

 

And like Toreth suggests; it’s not strategically viable to worry about it. So he let Marcus sweat it out for a bit, and then dropped it.

 

“Other than that, it’s a respectable minor corporation full of respectable minor corporates and respectable, well-published academics.”

“But are they well-cited?”

“Huh?”

“Well cited.” Chevril waved vaguely. “It’s something Elena’s editor friends say at dinner parties. One of them says, ‘So-and-so’s very well published’ and then someone else says, ‘Yes, but are they well cited?’ and then they all laugh a lot and open another bottle. Alcoholics, the lot of ‘em. Anyway, it means, does anyone actually read the stuff they churn out?”

 

I love this conversation. Firstly, because I love Chevril and Toreth interacting, but secondly, because here’s one of those glimpses into Chevril’s private life, which I’ve come to believe he keeps somewhat separate from his professional one (or tries to). And there’s some lack of being a part of Elena’s world of ideas and academia: it isn’t that Chevril and Toreth are stupid, they’re just in a different realm to that of publishing and academia, and from the way Chevril describes it, he realises he doesn’t quite fit in there.

 

I am REALLY curious about how Chevril feels beneath everything, and wonder if he sometimes wonders how the hell he managed to hook up with someone who is bright, stunning, and successful—and quite normal—and if he’s prepared to sit on the outside looking in and feeling a bit awkward and not quite understanding their world. It also makes me wonder how Elena perceives him, and how they hooked up and why the two of them were attracted to one another, especially considering some of the later things we come to learn about para investigators.

 

Toreth blinked. “You have dinner parties?”

“Uh, yes.” Chevril shifted in his chair. “Or at least Elena does. People from work.”

“How come I never get invited?”

“You?” Chevril laughed derisively. “Well, let me think about it. Would it be good for Ellie’s career if you seduced the wives of half her colleagues, causing broken hearts and messy divorces? Um… no.”

 

ROFLMAO. I love this.

“I wouldn’t necessarily.”

“You—“

“It could be their husbands.”

 

High-five, Toreth. Well fucking played, and I was chuckling through this conversation, and it’s one of those moments you can just see playing out, and I just have so much love for this and the playfulness—and the quiet revelations here.

 

“Oh, God.” Chevril grimaced in disgust. “You always have to, don’t you?” He drained his mug and stood up. “And that is exactly why you don’t get asked to dinner.”

 

*chuckle* I suspect some people will take that to mean that Chevril is a hideous homophobe, but I can’t really see it. He seems awkward and a bit uncomfortable about Toreth’s sexual orientation (and Toreth is well aware of it and taunts him with it) though he never is seen treating Toreth badly, talking trash about same-sex attracted people, or otherwise being a jerk along those lines. He strikes me as more a bit conservative and naïve rather than mean-spirited and bigoted, and I’m sure me admitting that would get me in trouble with some people, but I’d rather hang around a Chevril who’s cluelessness would make him a bit uncomfortable than a social justice warrior who thinks they’re fighting for gay rights while they’re being homophobic (or classist, or racist, or sexist) in ways they’re not even considering. I think if you logicked it out with Chevril, he’d realise he’s being weird, but no one’s really bothered to, and Toreth gets more from shocking him anyway.

 

Anyway, Chevril has helped Toreth: he’s tipped him off about the staff at SimTech’s academic work, and since Sara has pissed off early and Toreth is frustrated and unimpressed about the whole thing, he leaves her a message to go and rustle up all of their papers in case there’s something there, and as a bit of a “don’t think you can nick off this early on a Friday afternoon, Sara.”

 

 

Meanwhile, Warrick is having a session with Dr. Tanit, and again with Warrick, there’s a subtle wrestle for the upper hand going on between them.

Warrick was late for the Friday afternoon session. Marian knew why, of course—showing his irritation both that she had interrupted his schedule and that she had the power to do so.

 

He’s a control freak… and he doesn’t like being under anyone else’s control. And he plays things nice and subtly; something as simple as being late (or early, though that looks to me more like an attempt to intimidate and catch someone off guard rather than to appear aloof and as an annoyance) does the trick with no argument or drama. It’s passive-aggressive, but it’s delicate.

 

He’s only really going ahead with the session because it was two months since the last one and because Marian does have the power to stop Warrick using the sim if he doesn’t comply with the guards she’s put in after Tara’s issues. It’s all about keeping things and people safe, right?

 

But Marian’s first line of questioning isn’t really about the sim. Or Warrick—not really.

 

 

“You must have a reason for dragging me in here. What is it?” He stared at her directly, challenging her.

If that was how he wanted it… “The senior para-investigator in charge of the inquiry here.” She felt her lip curl on the title, but she couldn’t stop it.

His eyes narrowed. “Toreth? What about him?”

 

 

Yet again: so much going on here: and this is so subtle that it actually escaped my attention the first couple of times I read this book—for me, this is the first moment there’s a hint of something more than just a fuckbuddy situation with Toreth from Warrick’s POV. The moment I felt like Toreth had become somewhat attached to—or overly intrigued by—Warrick, was when he realised he was smiling and wanting to see more of him at the end of the chapter a few chapters ago (and his subsequent irritation about that screamed “I’m out of my fucking depth here and vulnerable and it’s pissing me off”) but the defensiveness from Warrick and the personalising of him—referring to him by name rather than occupation—is the clincher for me that Warrick isn’t just enjoying the novelty of getting to screw a para.

 

“Why are you interested in him?”

“What makes you think I’m interested?”

“The strategically placed bruises on your face recently, for one thing.”

 

Oh, cringe. While she’s trying to be subtle about it, I can only imagine this is squirm-inducing for Warrick.

 

“I wouldn’t have thought you’d go in for pain, Warrick.”

“It didn’t hurt,” Warrick said with the trace of a smile. “And he did it with his mouth, not his fist.”

 

And there’s the bit where I’m sucking in my breath going, “Why the fuck is that so fucking hot?” and thinking that this is definitely a case of less-is-more and where I’m going, “How the fuck did Manna Francis manage to hide whatever hotness that caused those bruises on his face from us readers?” and now reading That Other Thing alongside this I’m going, “Shit a brick, this is more intriguing and interesting and sexy than like, the entire three hundred pages or whatever I’ve read of that other book.”

But hotness and Warrick’s casual attitude aside, Marian isn’t seeing the sexeh side of things.

“I’m not joking. I’m concerned about you. To do his work properly, he has to have at least one, possibly two, personality disorders. It’s in the general psych profile of para-investigators.”

 

This would probably horrify most people, but being a psych nerd, and being in love with this universe, I sat there hankering for more information (do people get “sorted” into careers ala Futurama based on their psychological traits? The whole concept is fascinating…) and then giving some thought to the idea of personality disorders being beneficial career-determining traits.

 

Toreth could fit several descriptions, and given the work he’s doing, I can kind of see how a PD would be “helpful.” I had a huge discussion about Toreth with someone (who has not read the books) and the conversation went like this:

Me: “To be a para, basically you have to be a bit fucked up. Personality-disorder levels of fucked up. And… Toreth definitely has suggestions of that going on, but I’d still argue there’s more to him than simple sociopathy.”

Other person: “He’s a psychopath?”

Me: “That’s generally used interchangeably with sociopath. I think sociopath is the polite way of saying it nowadays, sort of like how someone has bipolar disorder rather than manic-depression.”

Other person: “So he’s… what?”

Me: “Well… he has traits of a sociopath: he’s very much indifferent to the harm he can do to other people: he sees people more as objects which are part of the bigger picture, and he’ll hurt them if he has to. He doesn’t quite conceptualise most of them as human.”

Other person: “He’s autistic?”

Me: “No. He can do social cues and he enjoys playing with people and provoking reactions from them. And he realises his effect on other people.”

Other person: “He’s narcissistic.”

Me: “Well he does have more than a touch of that going on, but in later books you get the impression that at least a HUGE part of that is to cover up for a cripplingly low self-esteem and the fact that his appearance has always earned him praise and approval on some level. He’s not pain-in-the-arse god-I-can’t-stand-you-will-you-please-shoot-yourself-now narcissistic. And he doesn’t need to convince everyone of his awesomeness; sometimes he actively shies away from that. He’d rather just get the job done properly than look good. He’s a very grounded kind of narcissistic.”

Other person: “Now you’re just making excuses for him.”

 

For some time, I’ve considered just what Toreth might wind up diagnosed with. His general indifference towards other people’s feelings and pain, and his ability to do things most people would regard as awful unflinchingly, plus his low threshold for boredom and his need to stir the pot and provoke people probably would result in the sociopath diagnosis.

 

But sociopaths don’t care about anyone else in the way “normal” people care about others, and Toreth has a very small number of people he clearly does care about throughout the course of the books, and he cares enough to act out of something beyond self-interest—at at least one point, he places himself in harm’s way for no other reason than concern for someone else.

 

And before someone says, “But only a sociopath could see others as little more than tools like that…” let me ask this: how many “normal” folk don’t really give a second thought to the human beings who assist them in living their lives? Most of us, like it or not, see others as some sort of object—I worked in retail for long enough to know that most people don’t give two shits about the person scanning their items (hell, some people won’t even acknowledge you) but that sort of casual rudeness and dismissal isn’t exactly considered sociopathic. What Toreth does is just a broader, more blatant version of that, which extends beyond the people regular people see as insignificant—like shop people—and encapsulates colleagues and associates and clientele.

 

Toreth is also manipulative, a trait ascribed to a number of personality disorders, though again: people, by the very nature of what they are are manipulative. When interacting with others, most of us generally want a favourable outcome, so we behave in a way designed to get this to occur. Perhaps we are extra-nice, or manage to play on someone’s sympathy in order to get assistance with something. Perhaps we offer a favour for a favour, or an “overlooking” for a favour. Perhaps we consider—and temper—our body language and verbal cues and tone towards a particular individual in anticipation of how we’ll be reacted to, so we’re going to get a favourable outcome.

 

This doesn’t have to be devious, dark headfuckery of the most brutal kind: this could be as simple as chatting to the crossing lady when we’re dropping the kids off at school. Human beings are generally social animals who avoid conflict and will generally prefer harmonious engagement with other human beings. Hell, people will allow things to happen to them or others, they’ll deny things that are or have happened, and they’ll hand over all sorts of things in order to keep that harmony.

 

Does that make them manipulative? Yes. But it also makes them human.

 

(This is coming from someone who has seen so much family drama that she feels like a decent portion of her life could have been a soap opera and who has worked in some insanely “people-y” workplaces which have allowed her to study group behaviour, and who has also known and worked with a lot of people who have had some psychiatric issue or another. All I’ve deduced from years of watching people interact is that anyone who calls someone else manipulative is denying their own capacity for manipulative behaviour—or trying to deflect attention from it. [Which I’d argue is a whole other level of manipulative.]) So yeah: people with personality disorders can be manipulative, but, hey: so can just about every other human being.

 

Obviously being undetectably manipulative, or bloody good at being manipulative would be an asset to someone like Toreth, though. Just like it would for a social worker, for a police officer, for a lawyer, for a teacher, for a salesman, for an HR manager (and I’ve met some serious verging-on-sociopathic types in that field) or for a counsellor.

 

Toreth has a relatively healthy ability, though, IMHO, to keep himself and what he does separate from one another. I’m pretty sure I’m in the minority of people who believe this is healthy, and that that would be considered part of a sociopathalogical profile. But conversely: imagine if someone in Toreth’s role took things personally? A para-investigator working for the Administration might be scary… but imagine if the guy also took any slights against his uniform to heart and reacted accordingly: to me, that would be a LOT scarier. (I’d rather be arrested by a cop who ignores an insult of “Fuck you, pig!” because s/he realises that people say that stuff to cops than the cop who is nice enough until they hear that and then decide to break out the batons and taser because they’re on a power trip or their feelings got hurt, personally.) Further on that, someone who did get personally attached to things in Toreth’s role could also be completely unprofessional and easily swayed—and corrupt: something Toreth hasn’t yet demonstrated towards other people in his line of work. He might bend the rules or flex his authority in ways that assist him with the job, but he could be a shitload scarier and dodgier. (One can only imagine the types of powertrippers who’d go in for his line of work. Then again, perhaps they’d fail the psych testing…)

 

Even if he’s only being honorable because he cares about doing a good job, he’s still a whole lot less emotional and personal and nasty than a hell of a lot of “normal” people, from my angle.

 

To me—and yes, this was prior to reading later stories in the series—Toreth came across as someone who wasn’t great socially, underneath the learned behaviours—he’s extremely good at getting what people want and responding to that accordingly, so his social reactions to most people come across as almost done by rote learning (and later on, we see that when an anomaly happens, he kind of doesn’t know what to do and reacts badly)—and who probably had some deeply rooted, capital-I Issues. Later on down the track I thought “Complex PTSD” (which, interestingly enough, both can look like autism AND sociopathy in some cases!).

I still don’t know diagnoses he’d get– I can guess Antisocial PD– or whatever they’re calling it in the Administration’s time, would be one of them, but he has more than that going on from my angle. (And that’s not impossible, either: dual-diagnoses is fairly common…)

 

Anyway: I’ve always liked him because of him flaws and snark: getting way too TMI here, there’s a fair bit in him that I find easy to empathise with, and that’s quite unusual for me when reading—or watching—things. (The only other literary character I have felt like that about was Lisbeth Salander in The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, but in the second book she changed enough into what I think was Steig Larsson’s fantasy figure, [what, with the breast implants and the walking around naked in her apartment all the time] that I’d kind of lost that feeling about her.) Someone made a hilarious comment on Tumblr about how they wanted to see a deliberate badfic attempt with Toreth and a MarySue character who saves him and makes him admit to being in love and all the rest of it… and the fact that I think that’s close to impossible is why I love the guy so much. I don’t have to worry about him turning into a Ryan Gosling character or getting “redeemed.” He is what he is, and he just gets on with it. His journey isn’t through some sort of new-agey namby-pamby where he gets “fixed,” or comes to learn about himself or anything that wanky: yet he still gets sufficient, believable character development. It’s just so much more subtle and lifelike than the epic transitions and justifications most characters seem to get.

He’s also not a deliberate killjoy: he’s actually quite pleasant on a surface level compared to a lot of “darker” protagonists. Just because someone’s got Issues, it doesn’t mean they have to mope around listening to The Cure and writing bad poetry about their heart being crushed like bleeding roses. Toreth just gets on with stuff.

 

One thing I adore about the series—and its characters—is, as someone—I believe it might have been Ms. Francis in one interview—said, it looks at the banality of evil. It gives us the unapologetic lives of people who go about their business but who don’t view what they’re doing as evil even though we, the readers, can see (or can possibly excuse to a degree) the fact that they are.

 

Ahem. I’ve been due to finish up this entry for a long time, and my little spiel about Toreth’s psychology and my defense of it has gone on a bit here. Anyway, basically this chapter gets me all ohmyfuckinggawd, because—aside from all this, there’s the mention of psych profiling for jobs in the future, and I geek out about this stuff, too. Methinks you’d have to be a little bit damaged on some level to be effective at what Toreth does.

Then again, I think that’s true of plenty of other jobs, too.

 

 

Anyway, Marian knows a bit about this shit, and she’s unimpressed with Warrick’s seemingly flippant attitude.

 

“People like him are selected as interrogators. Psychologically he’s barely an adult. He’s a case of arrested development. A type,” she said precisely. “He’ll never do anything surprising. They’ve written books about him. I can lend you some if you want to see what you’re getting into.”

 

Oh, ouch. (I think she means emotionally—though again, it’s interesting to note that autism is considered a “developmental delay” in terms of mental health issues.)

Warrick makes a casual joke about it, distancing himself, and Marian gives him the blunt honesty of the situation.

 

“He’s not interested in you, you know. He can’t even see you as a person—you or anyone else. He’s only interacting with his own projections.”

“Don’t we all?”

 

Yay, Warrick. While Marian might be 100% on the ball there, my thoughts were with Warrick on that.

Warrick then points out to Marian that she’s suggested he spent time with people away from the sim, and that now he is, he’s getting told off for it by her. Marian suggests hanging out with non-sociopathic people outside the sim.

 

I love their interaction. I love that Marian seems to quite sincerely be worried about Warrick independent of anything else, and that she, like Warrick and Toreth, is very bright, and very good at interacting with people and dominating those interactions with nothing more than subtle gestures and carefully picked words. I also like that she’s written like this: she’s not some sort of wedge to be driven between the star-crossed lovers, she’s not a prop, and she’s got perfectly understandable (which later get another depth to them) reasons for speaking to Warrick about this. Plus, like Toreth, she’s obviously studied psychology. She isn’t talking out her arse like a lot of others seem to, with preconceived ideas about what Toreth actually is.

 

“Oh, I know what Toreth is. Don’t concern yourself about that.”

“Then you’ve got to realise he’s using you.” There must be some angle to exploit, for everyone’s sake. “You’ve got something he wants. Any idea what it might be?”

His smile flickered into life again. “Now you’re wounding my ego.”

 

Hehe. I love the way Warrick can’t resist but taunt her with his own amusement at the whole thing.

He assures Marian that they just fuck, and that it’s nothing serious, though a moment later, in irritation, when she’s asking about “the para-investigator” going into the sim with Warrick, we get this.

 

“He has a name. Why don’t you use it?”

She hadn’t even noticed.

 

Warrick is upfront, when asked, about them having sex in the sim, and points out that Toreth hasn’t been in there enough to warrant any kind of psychological assessments or observation from Marian (oh, god, can anyone else imagine how that would go?) and admits that they used the sensory memory stacking. Once again, Marian expresses her concern about that, and she and Warrick disagree about what happened to Tara Scrivin and how one student going nuts doesn’t mean the whole thing is dangerous, and comes out with this:

“If we avoided technology because some people might hurt themselves with it, we’d still be in the caves, worrying about burning our fingers.”

My attitude in a nutshell, Warrick. 🙂

Marian points out that the SMS and the sexytimes being utilised in the sim aren’t exactly technology needed for human survival, though as Warrick points out, the whole thing isn’t just about sex.

 

“Of course not. No doubt para-investigator Toreth has some suggestions for other uses.”

Warrick froze in the chair, absolutely still. Marian cursed herself silently—such carelessness was unforgivable, however angry his obstinacy made her. Odd and infuriating in itself that he could effortlessly cut through years of training and hit a nerve every time.

 

Oh god, this is interesting. Especially in the context that Marian and Warrick are probably both on completely different pages at the moment about that one statement and that it already is a discussion Toreth and Warrick have had, but of course, Marian is clueless about that.

 

And it’s interesting, because perhaps Warrick really does have a damned good idea about what he’s dealing with when he’s dealing with Toreth, but he isn’t kidding himself about it, he isn’t scared of the guy, and he isn’t fetishizing him, either. He’s worked out how to keep that separate from the way in which he interacts with Toreth (which is quite limited) and make the most of what he has with him.

 

Marian quickly shifts the concern around to Toreth’s wellbeing, and expresses more worry about the effects of the sim, though this time, on Toreth, whom she believes is already unbalanced enough as it is given the marks left on Warrick’s skin.

“I’m still worried about you. You didn’t get those bruises in the sim. What happened to Tara can happen to him, and you’ll be the one who gets hurt in the fallout. I don’t think you understand the risk you’re running by pursuing this.”

“I’m not ‘pursuing’ anything. Or anyone, come to that.

 

Oh, no, you’re not, actually. You’re leaving Toreth to do that, much to his annoyance. Heh.

 

We met, we fucked, we liked it. That’s it. If it weren’t for the sim, once or twice would have been enough for him. He’s far more interested in it than he is in me.”

 

OOOH! And this is where we get that whole beautiful awesomeness of characters not being able to completely understand one another, because Toreth, even at this stage, seems intrigued by the sim, but he’s not the same sort of tech geek that he is, and I’d say he’s definitely more interested in Warrick himself and the real life fucking as opposed to the virtual stuff. In the sim, Toreth pretty much could have what he wants. Outside, it’s a different story: he has to work for it, and there’s a thrill in the chase—or, correction, making someone else do the chasing, and getting to see how they tick.

Or, is this an invested Warrick scared that he cares about Toreth more than he should, or is taken in more than he should be– and he’s trying to save face?

 

Marian isn’t interested so much in what Warrick thinks that Toreth is thinking, but asks what he thinks about Toreth.

To her surprise, he cocked his head, seeming to genuinely consider his answer.

“From a sexual standpoint,” he said at length, “he’s without a doubt the most talented partner I have ever had. Personality-wise, he’s not really my type.”

 

A few thoughts come to mind at this:

a)      Great answer, Dr. Warrick.

b)      Now I’m wondering how many sexual partners Warrick’s had.

c)       I guess Toreth has one of those personalities a lot of people wouldn’t exactly warm to. I doubt he’s most people’s type. (With all we know about the personalities of paras in this universe, you start wondering who they *can* connect with, and about, say, Elena. Later on down the track in the series, it’s revealed that someone dated one of the interrogators, and one can only wonder about that since they’re meant to be even more “dead inside” than the paras.)

d)      Intellectually, though, you two hit it off so fucking perfectly that you’re a match made in heaven. Because while you, Dr. Warrick, have the social finesse and delicacy to your actions which gives you an upper hand to a degree, both of you are brilliant, needing to remain stimulated, and you both need some push and pull. And it’s a damn good show to anyone within earshot.

 

Actually, I remember reading a quote from Francis Bacon, I think it was, who complained that someone’s art wasn’t fighting itself, and I sort of fell in love with that idea. And I guess that’s another reason why I love Toreth and Warrick together. (And why I love watching Toreth deal with someone difficult or Marian and Warrick have a session.)

 

Warrick excuses himself after this, and leaves Marian’s office, where she promptly has a look through the sim records and has a look at what Toreth and Warrick have been getting up to.

 

As usual, it was an uncomfortably voyeuristic experience, even given her professional detachment.

 

Yeah, I can really imagine. Nosy as I am about people, I can only imagine working in a job where you kind of have to see some intimate side of people and yet you still find it really fucking awkward. All the nurses I know have said they see so many bodily functions that stuff no longer makes them feel weird, but you know what? I doubt I could be a nurse. Then again, I guess I’ve seen enough mental health weirdnesses and heard some of the most awful stories about everything that a part of me barely flinches at stuff most people would probably find uncomfortable to witness, but even then, there will still be the odd thing that makes me feel like I’m seeing too much.

 

Marian watches them playing the game, and is still honestly surprised by Warrick getting so into the whole submissive thing, but then—possibly even more personal than the sex—is the way they’re lying together happily afterwards, discussing both the beauty and the problem of the sim’s safety catch. For the users, obviously, it means they can get out when they need to, but for Warrick, it doesn’t make the game real enough. And he wants that real danger, because that’s part of the thrill of the whole thing.

 

And Toreth’s caught onto it quickly, even though he has admitted to not having much experience with this sort of thing—and suggests turning off the safety catch—which wouldn’t be at all acceptable to Warrick. (Which is more than completely understandable.)

 

Toreth had begun to sound a little impatient, or maybe just bored. “Why not stick to what the sim’s good at? All your fucking weird games, all the things you can’t do outside. Memory stacking whatever. And we can play my game in the real world. Or aren’t I a good enough fuck out there?”

Warrick laughed. “God no. Or rather, God yes. Whichever—more than good enough. But the sponsors would like it. There’s a market, you know. I’m hardly unique. Although I’m not denying I would like it, too.”

 

While Warrick is thinking business, there is something undeniably sweet about this conversation, IMHO, and directly afterwards, Warrick asks Toreth out for a coffee. Still watching, Marian can’t find anything to fault, though she’s of course not yet convinced about the safety of the sim.

Toreth was manipulative and dangerous, and Warrick understood him perfectly. They were… comfortable together.  Somehow, Warrick’s unexpected insight into this only further strengthened her convictions that he would never willingly accept the dangers of the sim.

Interesting.

We aren’t given much time to dwell on this; Marian is off for another session with Tara, which again piques my curiosity—and then the chapter closes.

 

One thing I have refrained from mentioning, largely because I’ve focussed on Toreth and the revelations Marian makes about who he is because of what he does and the way people wind up there—is Warrick. We see him in a different light, and even though he’s being deliberately guarded and antagonistic towards Marian, and trying to make light of things, his diffusing her seriousness with humour or sarcasm suggests to me that he has some level of investment on some level in Toreth. Perhaps at this point it’s solely the sex thing, because he’s good at it and because he doesn’t delve too much or want a Serious Relationship, but this is, to me, a point where I think it’s quite clear that Warrick values Toreth beyond being a casual fuck, even though he’s implied that to Marian.

 

Anyway, I’m back and I apologise for the delay and I have missed the discussions on the series and… yeah. If anyone’s still around, I hope you’re up for talking about this one!!!

Mind Fuck, Manna Francis; Chapter Fourteen

So back at the office, Toreth is hit with a bit of a seemingly random game-changer, in the form of a message from an unidentified source, advising him that “Lew Marcus destroyed the security records.”

Which, given what we already know about everything and everyone involved in this case, isn’t really like throwing a spanner—but a whole fucking toolbox—into the works.

At first he considers Warrick as the sender—but recognises that it doesn’t really seem like his style.

Waiting for Sara to turn up in his office, he starts thinking about some more interactions he’s had in recent times with Warrick—

It had been an interesting evening. Very interesting. Topping was more fun than he remembered.

Oooh. Yet again, we get a casual mention—almost unnoticeable—about the inner workings of Val Toreth. I guess, like Warrick, he’s used to being in control to a large degree in his professional life so when it’s life to chill out and make with the sexytimes (and already it seems clear that Toreth regards sex as a recreational activity) he prefers to give that up… to a degree. It fits with Toreth’s somewhat hedonistic attitude about sex.

He’d planned for half an hour or so after dinner, and they’d taken nearer two.

Okay, Toreth, he’s a keeper. Already Warrick seems to be *different* to what he’s used to, and one of the important differences he has is that he manages to still remain interesting and compelling after a few sexual encounters. And it isn’t because he’s pretty or rich or overly submissive—it’s because he’s Warrick. (I can’t see Toreth being interested in someone because of their money, by the way: he strikes me as the type who’s happy enough provided he has a roof over his head and enough for some takeaway and to maintain his rather Spartan lifestyle. Unless, of course, that person with money also has power and then they’re compelling more because playing around with that power or headfucking them a bit is some sort of reward. But the money would be a merely correlating side issue.)

Tell me what you want. An entertaining question to ask someone who had so much practice at analysing his own sexual responses and who could produce clear, descriptive requests. Or at least had started off able to.

Heh.

Maybe that was why it had taken so long—pushing Warrick past that into shuddering incoherence had been the most enjoyable part of all.

I love the way that Manna Francis manages to write about someone’s likes in a way that gives hints about them to the reader, if the reader wants to go all derpy and overly analytical like yours truly –or which just sounds kind of hot otherwise. And I love that Toreth, who we haven’t seen doing an awful lot of reflection (that isn’t about work or about how to acquire someone he’s interested in) seems to be thinking about this.

Kneeling, flushed and panting, cuffs pinning his arms. Everything distilled into one ddesperate need.

Please. Fuck me.

Respectable corporate guy, indeed.

*giggling* I’m one of those people who is fascinated by people in rather “respectable” roles actually being unexpectedly kooky in some way or another. I’ve spent longer than I should care to mention dealing with workplace cretins by trying to mentally envision what their sexual quirks are. It’s sort of like imagining the audience in their underwear only a bit more wrong and personal, I guess.

“Is this a private moment? I can come back later.” Sara stood in the doorway, one eyebrow raised. Fuck. How long had she been there? “Did you want me?” she asked.

Yet again, I love their relationship. Sara is so snarky and sarcastic and thoroughly awesome in her own right, and she interacts beautifully with Toreth as always. I keep thinking of who would play her if this was a TV series and drawing a huge blank, thinking it would have to be an unknown who’d just make Sara’s role her own.

Having had his “private moment” interrupted, Toreth gets down to business and asks where the message came from. Sara tells him that it’s been deemed untraceable by the IT people, and leaves him (smiling and closing the door in a typical display of Sara cheekiness—but also allowing him privacy and dignity in the understatedly caring manner she shows towards him) to move the investigation on. Toreth then pulls up Lew Marcus’ file and finds that no one can confirm when he actually left, including the security guard who saw him leaving. Deciding to chase that lead, he figures he’ll go to SimTech to chat to Marcus there.

And then the subtle games start.

In Marcus’ office, Toreth didn’t take the low seat offered.

Nice. It’s one of those really subtle body language things that most people wouldn’t pick— I mean, offering someone a seat is fairly ordinary, and fits in with what we consider to be good etiquette—yet there can be some serious subtle power play going on, and things can shift with both the offer of the seat or the refusal of that offer… (and the positioning of the seating, too, though that’s a side issue…)

Still standing, leaving Marcus seated and forced to look up at him, he starts asking what the hell’s going on. Marcus is evasive, and Toreth pulls out the big guns.

“I’m going to ask you again if you remember. Before you answer, I’d like to remind you who you’re talking to, and why. Impeding the conduct of an investigation is in itself a minimum category two offence—higher if the seriousness of the case merits it.”

One thing I like about Toreth is that his dealings with people are well-timed. He doesn’t come across as thuggish (he could very well have been throwing his weight around from the get-go and trying to intimidate information out of people at the start of the case), rather someone who knows when and how to use his authority to get results. He’s smarter than your average bad guy foot soldier, and either in spite of—or because of—his apparent sociopathy (or complex PTSD, I’d argue)—he has an eloquence with people that even a lot of good guys lack.

And it works on Marcus, who is clearly shitty about someone having it over him, though he starts talking. Though there’s another hole in his story, which Toreth quickly jumps on.

“And what time did you arrive home?”

“I don’t—“ He stopped, staring at the camera recording the interview, and Toreth watched as he ran through the lies, failing to find one which would stand up to pressure. Eventually, he looked down to where his hands were clasped together,

A random point I want to make here: nice use of that gesture. Again, it’s subtle body language just showing what’s going on in Marcus’ head and that he’s clearly defeated, and possibly scared. It’s also something that Ana in Shades seems to do a hell of a lot around Grey, and, well, it doesn’t speak volumes of happytimes romance. I see it as a human equivalent of a dog holding its tail between its back legs.

resting on the edge of the desk. “It was about ten fifteen, as I told you before. I honestly don’t remember exactly, so it could have been ten minutes either way.”

Toreth realises he couldn’t have killed Kelly Jarvis, though continues the questioning… clearly Marcus is hiding something. Evasive and not wanting to admit details, Toreth finally gets it out of him:

“I was with a girl. A woman.”

“A regular thing?” Who would hence make a bad alibi, and keep this lead alive.

Marcus shook his head, still not looking at him. “A prostitute.”

Which made her an alibi with no interest in covering up for Marcus.

Well, at least he can tie off this particular end.

Toreth asks if she was registered, and Marcus all but admits that he didn’t ask.

Since money wasn’t likely to be a concern, he considered briefly and picked a likely kink. “How old was she?”

Quiet applause from me: nicely played, Toreth… and it sure as hell explains Marcus’ messing with the security tapes (it wouldn’t look good for a director of a company to have some sort of scandal to his name, I assume) and reluctance to answer Toreth’s questions… especially if he’s worried about getting in trouble for his involvement with the girl—I mean, woman.

From the flash of panic, he knew he was right. Marcus took a deep breath and said, “S—eighteen. She had ID.”

“Of course she did. You checked her ID but not her registration.”

Hehe.

He took a small step sideways, forcing Marcus to meet his gaze. “Listen. I don’t care who you fucked. I don’t care if she isn’t registered. I don’t care which side of legal she is.

That’d be Justice’s job, wouldn’t it?

“I do care that you’re making my life difficult. Give me a name—if you can’t give me a name, give me a place, a time, and a description of whoever the hell you bought her from. Then I can check it out and just maybe I won’t have to go and explain all this to your wife.”

Oh… well done. Marcus is actually comes across as more worried about that than the legal repercussions, and admits he screwed around with the security records.

“I know,” Toreth said, enjoying the dismay on Marcus’ face. “I’m afraid it’s too late in the day for honesty to help.”

“But I have backup!”

Toreth blinked. “What?”

Weirdly enough, Marcus kept records, which are legit and untampered with, and which he offers to Toreth, and then he asks what will happen.

“To you? Well, as I said, what you’ve done is a category two offense. A fine rather than prison, but it’s an automatic revocation of corporate status. And a category four on top, maybe, if the girl comes in underage. The Justice system might issue a re-education order for that, for a noncorporate. If I asked for it, of course.

Basically, Marcus, he could ruin your life. And he wants you to know that.

Or I may not charge you with anything—it all depends on what kind of mood I’m in.” He smiled coldly. “Not very good at the moment, I have to say.”

I probably should be feeling bad for Marcus, but reading that, I was just smirking away to myself: the delivery was perfect, and now we know Marcus is going to drop the attitude around Toreth, even if he’s going to be pissy that he has to.

Look, Marcus, he tried being nice.

Marcus simply stared at him, all arrogance gone.

Toreth picked up the camera, wringing what little satisfaction he could from the situation. “I promise I’ll let you know when I make my mind up.”

Oh, burn. Now we know that Marcus’ cooperation is ensured for awhile, but that he’s not the murderer, we still don’t know who sent the note, and that basically, Toreth’s not much closer to working out what the hell is going on. Still, he managed to do what he did with flair.

 

Toreth goes back to the office and considers what could be going on (after getting one of his team to check out the alibi). Wondering if there was some sort of blackmail plot involving a workplace affair with either Kelly or Tara and Marcus, he wonders if the tampered tape could have shown Kelly being murdered by Marcus.

Superficially attractive as the conjecture was, he found it hard to get excited about. A liking for fucks of dubious legality didn’t make a murderer, and he’d have a hell of a job getting a damage waiver from Justice with that as his only evidence. Worse, it didn’t provide Marcus with a motivr to kill Teffera.

I like that: the logic and the idea that yes, Marcus is kind of a shit, but that doesn’t make him a murderer. And that the system is in place: it would be a royal pain to get the paperwork and authority to bring him in for interrogation.

And he realises that there could be other possibilities: like the fact that there might be more than one murderer and that the whole thing could be “an  unlucky coincidence.”

He decides to drop the idea and forget about the waiver unless there’s something more concrete linking Marcus to the murder.

So what were the options? Tillotson was right—he had nothing. Thanks to the anonymous tip-off, he had less than he had on Friday, as the possibility of murder had receded even further with the resolution of the lost security records. Proving the culpability of the sim seemed unlikely.

You can feel the frustration, can’t you? Especially since the techies looking at the code and hardware haven’t given him an end date either. But Toreth is still convinced that it’s corporate sabotage and that unfortunately, with the rate things are progressing for him, and the impending refinancing of SimTech the killer will have won when everyone pulls out and someone else buys the company.

After that there would be no more fresh corpses. A pity, since another body or two could only help.

You really get that Toreth wants to solve this because it’s a puzzle and because it’s his job, not because he’s some sort of superhero who cares about the integrity of humanity and justice, don’t you?

Toreth leaned back in his chair, considering that idea more carefully. More bodies… Maybe he could do something about that, and at the same time test the theory that the deaths were an attack on SimTech. A little provocation might bring him the evidence he badly needed.

I get the line of thinking, and I realise to him it’s little more than a game, but… wow. It’s a bit like that riddle about the sociopath who attends a funeral and meets someone he likes there, so he decides he wants to meet her again… so he kills her sister. The logic holds, but it’s brutal (and risky).

At coffee time, he caught up with Sara and said, “I’d like something dropped in the admin network, please.”

She grinned. “Sure. What?”

“The sim didn’t kill our corpses—it’s just a very odd coincidence. Two cases of natural causes. We’re sitting on our hands for awhile to annoy Justice and then closing the whole thing down.”

Oh, clever.

Now she looked disappointed. “It’s going to be hard to float that one. It’s not exactly gripping, is it?”

“It doesn’t need to get very far—just round the section.” Any corporate sabs big enough to tangle with LiveCorp would have friends at I&I to pick it up from there.

I love the plan! And I love the way he utilises Sara’s knack for office gossip… and I love that she has the knack for it but it anything but your stereotypical office ditz: she’s socially astute and able to appear harmless at times, but she’s, well, not.

The downside is that, yeah, people might get killed. Or nothing might happen. But still, it’s something, and right now Toreth’s in a complete pickle of a situation.

 

Meanwhile, a rather sheepish Lew Marcus pays Warrick a visit and coughs up.

“Warrick, I’m afraid I’ve done something stupid. Very probably unforgivably stupid. Do—oh, God.”

He squared his shoulders. “Do you remember the trouble six years back? The girl?”

Oh, charming.

“Your amateur blackmailer?” He tried to keep his tone light, although dealing with the incident had been one of his less enjoyable lessons in corporate management.

Oh, fuck. He might be good at what he does and driven to see the sim succeed, but not only is Marcus a creep, but he’s a liability, too.

“Yes. I did…” Lew looked down at his hands, long fingers clasped together, knuckles white. “I’ve been doing it again.”

I’m so torn here because he makes my skin crawl, but at least he’s finally owning up to what he’s doing when he realises that Warrick is probably going to go completely apeshit. Also, is it just me or is anyone else wondering what Marian Tanit makes of Lew Marcus? (And his relationship with his mother.)

Oh, hell. Lew’s predilections weren’t a subject Warrick had any wish to discuss, even when there was a legitimate concern as to how they impacted on SimTech. On the other hand, Warrick had spent a fair portion of Saturday night kneeling on the floor of a hotel room in front of the para-investigator in charge of the case, discovering how good it felt to have to beg for every touch. He was hardly in a position to take the moral high ground over sexual practises occasioning threats to SimTech’s image.

Hmmm. I wonder if Warrick only knows part of the story and assumes that Marcus’ scandalous behaviour concerns seeing sex workers as opposed to teenage girls. Also, I find this interesting: Warrick works with people describing fantasy and sensation in the sim; he gets glimpses into other people’s personal thoughts and a somewhat intimate look at who they are on a deeper level than most people get… yet when it comes to one of his equals, he’s avoidant.

He tells Marcus that he should talk to Marian about it (heh!), and when Marcus said he did, then he admits to having dicked around with the security footage on the night Kelly died, admitting that his wife threatened to leave if he did it again. Warrick considers telling Toreth about that, and tells Marcus he needs to come clean to I&I, but

“That’s what Marian said. And I’d been thinking about it, trying to work out how. But it’s too late; the para-investigator already found out, somehow. Here was here today.”

I love how Marian actually knew this—at some point—but the readers didn’t know, and that there’s so much more going on at SimTech than we’re seeing. Secrets—smaller ones than the big obvious one—still make things complicated—and compelling, and it’s just utterly delicious. (This is one of those books I wish I could read for the first time again over and over. In a way, writing the read-through recaps actually makes me feel like I am, in a way, so I’m getting to rehash my love for it on a new level, if that makes sense.)

Marcus explains how that went.

“He made a lot of unpleasant threats and thoroughly enjoyed himself, as far as I could tell. The man’s revolting—I’d always heard that that place employed sadists, but I didn’t believe it until now.”

Oh gawd. I’m thoroughly amused because clearly Marcus has no idea about Toreth and Warrick, or about his workmate’s predilections, and also because he was thoroughly pwned in the best way possible by Toreth and it’s likely he’s still shitty about that. Then there’s the fact that, well, dude: you screw underage prostitutes. Not really your place to be all judgmental.

Warrick is relieved when he realises that Toreth knows that Marcus didn’t kill Kelly, and even moreso when he admits to having backups which he’s handed over, though he’s still unimpressed with what’s happened.

“I don’t need to tell you what this could do to the finance renegotiations.”

Lew returned his gaze, all traces of humour gone. “I know. That’s why I had to tell you what I’d done. In case—“ He sat up straighter, his shoulders stiff. “In case you wanted to invoke the founders’ clause to remove me from the board. I think you could legitimately consider me a fatal liability to the corporation at this point. I won’t fight it, if you do, and I’ll give up my shares right away.”

Wow. That’s actually kind of honourable of Marcus, though the timing is awful: the last thing SimTech needs is more drama, and Warrick realises that. And despite his anger, he calms himself and asks if Marcus has talked to Asher. When he says he hasn’t, Warrick assures Marcus that they’ll stick by him, and if there are charges, SimTech will provide him with legal counsel.

Relieved, Marcus apologises, and Warrick wants to be snarky, but can’t.

“We have to stick together,” Warrick said. “If someone is trying to kill SimTech, the last thing we need is for the directors to fall apart. That would be the last straw for our chances with the sponsors.”

I love the way he’s so pragmatic about it, because I have more than a sneaking suspicion that I know what I’d have done in his situation.

He then offers Marcus a thoroughly non-subtle lift home, and thus concludes the chapter.

 

And I’ll admit: this is where things start to really heat up for me; I actually found myself with a few reading hours sans laptop and kind of read ahead nine chapters without even realising it after this point. I had forgotten how wonderful this book is. It’s nice to remind myself.

Mind Fuck, Manna Francis; Chapter Thirteen

Chapter thirteen starts with Toreth’s meeting with Tillotson, and they’re negotiating salaries for Toreth’s team. Here, we get to see another side of Toreth which I love but haven’t seen discussed that much—he’s a good boss. I guess it goes with his strong work ethic, but he’s both good at what he does and good at seeing the potential in, and harnessing the talents of other people in his area, and when they’re good, he advocates for them. Throughout the series it’s something he both does well and which seems to evade the attention of a lot of others (except Sara) until a crucial moment.

Anyway, Tillotson is a complete bureaucrat and wants none of this, and for everything to be organised as cheaply and efficiently as possible. Toreth wants people recognised and paid to their abilities, and he advocates for workers who’ve been good to him.

“Mistry. I’m sure she’s a good enough investigator, but a promotion to level three and a third of the way up the pay scale? I don’t see any outstanding cases credited to her.”

“She’s very sympathetic.”

Clearly, Tillotson, too, has no idea what Toreth’s team actually get up to or their skill levels or abilities. Thankfully, he does.

Yet again, this is one of those moments where I am stunned into disbelief at the sheer accuracy of the writing here… I think this is the upper-management of every government department ever.

“Sympathetic?”

Look it up in the fucking dictionary. “Yes. She’s good with people. Witnesses, particularly. People tell her things they didn’t mean to, and it all adds up. If the witnesses don’t talk to someone, we don’t get any evidence, and then we don’t close any cases. Unless you’d like me to run a lot more witness interrogations with damage waivers and all the rest of the trimmings.”

Oh, Toreth.

The hilarious thing about this—other than the fact that he’s right—is that this ability to negotiate like this comes from his work and training… the same which Tillotson seems perfectly oblivious to. And by this point, even if Tillotson realises that Toreth has the upper hand, there’s sweet FA he can actually do about it, unless he wants to just be petty and needlessly power-trippy, because as Toreth has pointed out: having Mistry working her magic means that time and money are saved and potential drama is averted.

And when Tillotson asks why level increase is needed, he spins a bit about how she’s been headhunted by another department who are offering her nicer benefits including a housing upgrade. And backs it up with “Sara checked it out.”

“Hm, why does she want to stay?”

Because I’m not as much of an arsehole as you and most of the others here. Toreth smiled. “She likes me.”

“Oh. Maybe we should let her go. Then CF can pay for the psych discharge.”

He laughed politely. With Toreth’s reputation, most people would’ve come up with a different comment. However, Tillotson’s mind didn’t work like that. As far as Toreth could tell, it was mostly filled with numbers and division politics, with people existing only in relation to the wages they cost, the expenses they submitted and the kudos they generated. Sex had no budgetary implications.

I love this meeting SO SO SO much. Firstly, the inner-workings of I&I fascinate me. Like the broader world of the Administration, they’re so close to real that they’re very easy to relate to and understand, and they’re written with a sense of fun, and… detail. Also, I love what Manna does with dialogue: each of her characters has a very distinct voice, even the ones who could have very easily been background props.

Then there’s the fact that I&I runs like a lot of government departments in that everyone there is a bit screwy in their own way. I&I obviously attracts some extremes given the nature of the work, I guess: you get the number-obsessed govi types like Tillotson who have a hard time getting that people are actual human beings rather than just spreadsheet names, and then you get the Toreths who have a hard time getting that people outside his immediate concern aren’t just vessels containing information pertinent to the cases he’s sorting out.

It’s kind of how I imagine working for ASIO to be: not full of super-slick, sky-high-IQ agents, but full of ordinary-ish people who are obsessed with their jobs and quite isolated by them, misunderstood, misrepresented and treated with suspicion from the general public, and who were a little bit different to begin with, hence them being attracted to the job—and getting hired to begin with—and probably, after a few years there, being a little bit more different.

(Not that I ever have worked for such an agency or know anyone who does, btw. This is all speculation, so if anyone thinks I know too much, I actually don’t. 😉 )

Anyway, Toreth basically bargains with Tillotson, scoring Mistry a bigger pay increase than he’d initially aimed for for the “loss” of the housing upgrade he’d mentioned, and gets others on his team similarly sorted.

Tillotson then asks how things are going at SimTech and mentions that Legislator Nissim has been asking what’s going on, while he’s still thinking that it’s simple tech!fail and not really I&I’s case. But Toreth doesn’t believe that the wiped security records and the sim killing people due to tech!fail happened coincidentally.

“I’ve had memos inquiring whether it wouldn’t be better to take the case out of your hands.”

From whom? Nissim? Departmental friends of the Tefferas? Suddenly cold, Toreth sat up straighter. “I beg your pardon, sir?”

Tillotson smiles sourly at the unusual politeness. “I told them you were my best senior, and you have the best—or at least the most expensive—team. So I suggest you get out there and start justifying this.” He gestured irritably at the screen.

Toreth stood up, his stomach still fluttering from the shock. “Yes sir.”

You actually have to hand it to Tillotson in a way. He’s not entirely incompetent when it comes to dealing with people: he can motivate his staff.  Sort of.

And you have to hand it to the slickness of the writing there. Such a subtle little thing which could have not been detected, huh?

Later on, at Toreth’s flat, Sara is commenting on his lack of homely surroundings. To be less polite about it: Toreth lives in something of a mess. Not really having a need to keep the place (which, to be fair, sounds tiny, and tiny living areas are hard to keep clean, dammit) clean since it’s only ever him and Sara (who he doesn’t feel the need to impress because she accepts him regardless of his flaws) in there anyway, he’s left it become overrun with pizza boxes, exercise equipment, and clothes. This used to be my bedroom situation, only there were ashtrays and lots of bits of paper and books and cosmetics involved as well, so I’m rather sympathetic here.

Tidying up, because that’s the sort of relationship Sara and Toreth have, Sara points out that he should probably hire a cleaner, but Toreth doesn’t like that idea: he doesn’t want strangers going through his stuff.

It’s an interesting little insight into his character: I assumed initially he’d be kind of anal-retentive (as I assumed Warrick would be as well) but I suppose work and other out-of-home activities consume his life and he’s not really a homebody who’s into cooking food so he wants quick-and-easy stuff which means “pizza,” and well, stuff accumulates and mess happens. Like I said, it’s really easy for a small space to become a pigsty.

Anyway, over the mess— and then dinner (Thai takeaway)—they talk about work, which leads to Toreth’s experiences with the sim, and then… Warrick. Clearly they have an awesome, affectionate buddy relationship, with Sara laying her head in his lap in a completely non-sleazy manner while he recounts what happened.

When he’d finished, Sara helped herself to another beer and said “Does Tillotson know you screwed him?”

Toreth, of course, has handled this like a boss.

“Fuck, no. I fudged his alibi to ‘with a lover, confirmed by surveillance and interview.’ Identity concealed on request, not relevant to the case, et cetera. I got a security recording of him going in and out of the RC so I’m in the clear. Tillotson never wants to upset corporates, so he won’t ask who it was.”

Perfect, isn’t it?

Sara then asks what he was like, to which Toreth explains that he was good, especially since he’s new to “this sort of thing.”

“I didn’t know you did that kind of thing.”

“Sometimes.” He shrugged. “Not very often.”

“Can’t find someone to do it with?”

“No, that’s not a problem. Good tops are hard to find.”

She laughed at the immodesty. “And you’re good, are you?”

“I’ve had compliments.” He leered down at her. “Want to find out?”

It wasn’t a serious question and Sara didn’t take it as one. “I don’t do kinky. So why don’t you do it more often?”

That’s one thing you have to hand to Toreth: all his issues aside, he’s probably one of the more well-adjusted characters in anything ever regarding his sexuality. He’s refreshingly honest and straightforward. He sees sex as something to do for enjoyment; he’s kind of hedonistic about it but he’s open and not weird about anything and there’s nothing personal in it for him. (Something which has probably helped him not have much weirdness on his part after that encounter with Sara.)

And if his work ethic extends to his performance, he’s probably quite good at it, too.

Anyway, he explains to Sara that he’s not into the BDSM thing because of the whole social scene (which cracked my shit up because I haven’t read this book in ages and had forgotten about this conversation and I remember making that last post about Shades referring to real life scene people and some of their, um, interesting behavioural funtimes). In addition, Toreth doesn’t really like the lack of spontaneity which comes with the scene and its players when everything is spelled out by participants beforehand. Which on one hand is understandable, I guess. For the fantasy aspect, I guess.

On another hand, it just screams so many types of wrong—and potential for Really Fucking Bad Stuff to happen— that it’s scary. Until you remember that, in his own funny little way, he and Warrick have sorted out safewords and somehow managed to get things in motion without overly long discussion. Like a lot of things about Toreth, he looks a lot scarier with just the facts than the whole package, I guess.

I still don’t think he’s anything near as terrifying or awful as Christian Grey, though, and after reading this chapter and then the next chapter of Shades, I’m still wanting crossover fic where Toreth either winds up seducing him or interrogating him. (I’m not picky. Either—or both— would be awesome.)

Toreth admits that “respectable corporate guy” as they’re calling Warrick at the moment, doesn’t have a list of likes and dislikes, and that’s a big part of the appeal, and suggests that he’ll learn and come up with one.

“You’re going to do it again, then?” She sounded mildly surprised, as well she might. Toreth had rather surprised himself at SimTech when he had arranged another real-world meeting with Warrick.

“Yeah, I am.”

“Not while the investigation’s in progress, though?” Then her eyes narrowed. “You didn’t screw him again already?”

“A couple of times.” He finished the bottle. “And I’m seeing him tomorrow.”

“Oh, Jesus. Tillotson will blow a fuse if he finds that out.”

“He won’t. Warrick’s not going to tell anyone.” He tapped her on the nose with his beer bottle. “And it’s not going to get onto the network, is it?”

So here we get to see that while he’s normally professional and sensible… he’s taken two major risks: he’s trusting Warrick to remain true to his word—and he’s continuing to see him—and he’s trusting Sara to keep her mouth shut about it. And given how well Sara knows him, this must be such a weird exception for Toreth that she’s probably wanting to say something—but she can’t. And maybe Toreth does have training and an ability to work out who’s going to be more likely to keep secrets than most—but given things like his concern that a cleaner would go through his stuff, and other small hints that he’s not really a sharer when it comes to him and the rest of the world, these aren’t exactly insignificant things for him.

Even when he makes a bare hint by leaving a suggestive opening in the conversation about the time he and Sara had sex—he’s both dying to find out (and from my angle, it’s almost like he’s hoping she does remember and still likes and cares about him in the same way regardless—it’s a weird little test from him) if she does remember—and still scared that if she does, it will ruin things between them—it’s a rare, intimate risk that he’s taking. And it’s significant because of who’s involved. If Sara was no one, it wouldn’t matter. But she’s… Sara.

And she changes the subject.

“You know, I never thought I’d see you of all people getting into an interrogator junkie.”

“A what?” Toreth blinked, distracted from his fishing expedition. “No fucking way!”

I was giggling at this one; it’s another little so-typical-it’s-believable thing in this world. Think about what uniforms and power or authority do to people: there are people who have a thing for cops. Or military people. Or firefighters. Or… you get the impression. (Funnily enough, I think the uniform/career fetish thing applies to just about anyone in a work-related uniform except for retail workers. But then again, retail workers don’t have the sort of power or authority that just about every other uniformed job has with it, right?)

And yeah, folks, FetLife’s confirmed that there are interrogation junkies, who seem to bear some resemblance to Manna Francis’ fictional ones. Some of them seem to have a—I wouldn’t quite call it romanticised, but it’s kind of glorified, I guess—idea about interrogators, and some of the arguments about how t0 recreate accurate or realistic settings for roleplay kink have cracked my shit up or scared the hell out of me. (Protip: talking about doing away with safewords because they don’t use them in Guantanamo Bay is probably a bad idea. It’s probably kind of hazardous to try waterboarding at home. And seriously, there are some people who get a bit too into the specifics of “how to break someone psychologically”  under the guise of sexual roleplay. …I suppose the idea of people getting off on doing this stuff in real life is even creepier than the idea of people just doing it because they believe that the ends justifies the means and that it’s a necessary evil. Or maybe that’s just me.)

“No?” She arched an eyebrow. “Screwing him with his arm up his back? Sounds like it to me.”

“Bollocks does it.” Taking the piss was one thing; this was something else. “Do I look that desperate for a fuck?”

*snort* So that was Toreth’s problem? The idea that he would take advantage of that and have to rely on that to get sex? I love it: in a way, it’s again about his work being a big part of his identity, which is, underneath his sometimes casual attitude about it, something he takes very seriously.

“You should be careful with him, that’s all.” Toreth couldn’t tell whether she was serious or not. “Next thing you know, respectable corporate guy’ll turn up outside your flat with your name carved in his chest. Remember Helen the psycho stalker?”

Oooh. Interesting, and dammit, there is stuff I want to say right now but won’t, though did anyone else catch a hint of concern from Sara there?

“Oh, fuck yes. Thanks for reminding me.” Toreth opened a new beer and downed half of it, trying to wash away the faint embarrassment the memory always stirred up.

Again, interesting. He clearly likes attention from sexual partners, and takes pride in his prowess, but he doesn’t want it because of what he does, and he doesn’t want it from the vulnerable and crazy. Now, if this was a certain other bad dude I’m reading about…

It was a well-known rule at I&I that anyone who went through a genuine high-level interrogation and came out the other end wanting to fuck interrogators was guaranteed to be certifiably nuts. Of course, he’d insisted on learning that lesson the hard way.

(And this is the bit where, you just go “WTF HAPPENED?” because dammit, that is shit we the readers need to know.)

“He’s nothing at all like her,” Toreth said. “Exactly the opposite, in fact. Doesn’t even want to hear about it. He’s…” Not a junkie. Not a typical submissive.

(Yeah: hell no. Can we say topping from the bottom, ladies and gentlemen? Also, randomly on this: this is something that there should be a whole lot more of in fiction. Because it’s way more complex and interesting and it doesn’t make all the hideous mistakes that certain other writers do when they make their submissive characters simpering idiots who are rather ambiguous about being submissive. I’ve only seen two examples of this done really fucking well and explored in depth: one is here, and another was in a particular Ace Attorney fic.)

Toreth thinks about him a bit more, and then considers the fact that he’s gone back for subsequent sexual encounters with Warrick which is another thing that makes this such an odd situation—and assures Sara that Warrick doesn’t know where he lives.

Even though, when you consider it—and interestingly enough, it’s something Toreth hasn’t told Sara—he easily could find out. So even though they do have a close relationship—probably closer than anyone else Toreth interacts with—he still has his stuff that she isn’t privy to.

I fucking LOVE this chapter, by the way. This is the stuff that makes you want to meta and psychoanalyse everyone and have theories and see other peoples’ theories about character’s personalities, and just, yeah. God I love this stuff. There is so much going on here, but it’s all so cool and subtle.

Mind Fuck, Manna Francis; Chapter Twelve

So, Toreth doesn’t pussy out and he goes along to the sense-memory stacking demonstration in the sim, even though he was quite obviously apprehensive about it.

Toreth lay in absolute darkness. In fact, lay wasn’t the right word– he simply existed. He could feel nothing, not even an awareness of being inside his body. He tried to blink, and didn’t know if he had. He was a mind, adrift in an endless emptiness.

Anyone here tried sensory deprivation tanks before? (Do they still use them nowadays?) I did when I was pregnant with my now-eleven-year-old son, and after the initial period of getting used to being in the thing, you do get a sense of just being… a collection of thoughts. It was one of the trippiest, most humbling and calming things I’ve ever experienced, even though I’ve heard that it can scare the beejesus out of people.

Apart from his own thoughts, the only thing he was conscious of was Warrick’s voice, giving a running commentary on the body Toreth couldn’t feel.

“God you’re hard,” he murmured from an unguessable distance.

Again, an interesting situation here: Toreth is completely at Warrick’s mercy. Again. Like he was last time. And even though Warrick assured him that all would be safe, I had the impression that Toreth wasn’t just worried about the fact that the sim was possibly killing people… he’s had that other experience with Warrick in the sim, hasn’t he?

Toreth  asks what Warrick is actually doing, which is a fair point since he has absolutely no sense of what’s going on beyond his thoughts. Warrick explains that he’s “finger fucking the virtual Toreth, and that even though he can’t feel it right now, he will.

To be honest, the first time I read this section I was seriously trying to get my head around the technology here, but precisely why it works and is better than most other virtual realities is that thought has gone into it; it’s not magic or “it’s there so just believe in it, readers,” it’s a part of the story and it’s developing.

Toreth suggests that they just get to the fucking part, and asks how much longer they’re going to be, reminding Warrick that he’s meant to be working.

“And so you are– as in fact am I. I’m running an SMS trial on a new volunteer. You’re investigating the sim. Didn’t you say your boss was convinced it was responsible for the deaths?”

“I don’t think Tillotson will be impressed if I file an IIP saying I spent all afternoon here in the dark with your virtual fingers virtually up me.”

The warm laugh again. “So ask me a question, Para-investigator.”

I was giggling here: I love Warrick’s interpretation of things. He might be a brilliant  engineer, but can anyone else imagine this guys as a lawyer or a politician?

Toreth asks about the paper Tanit told him SimTech had suppressed, to which Warrick replies that it wasn’t so much as suppressed because of the outcome Tanit discussed but due to the fact that it breached confidentiality agreements and revealed too much about th workings of the sim itself. The sponsors received copies; the wider public did not. Warrick then explains that the sponsors didn’t see how one unfortunate happening could ruin the commercial viability of the sim.

So we have, erm, two versions of “suppressed” here, don’t we? The Tanit conspiracy version where the corporation is stopping the world knowing about a dangerous product, and the Warrick version where it would be corporate suicide due to confidentiality and sponsorship issues to talk about the sim in detail.

And then he says that Toreth’s ready for the run through the SMS.

Without any sense of change or transition, Toreth’s body flamed back into life. At the same instant, the sensory awareness of twenty minutes of Warrick’s careful handiwork exploded into his mind with perfect clarity. If he could have drawn breath, he would have screamed at the overwhelming intensity– he felt as though he had spent hours on the brink of coming. He held on to the sensation for seconds that seemed to stretch into forever, before it peaked into a blaze of ecstasy, which finally burned out back into darkness.

Okay, let’s be dead honest: this sounds fucking incredible. And I’m one of those I-highly-value-my-privacy-when-it-comes-to-my-sex-life types, and even I’m saying “Fuck yeah, I’d have to give that a go.” In short: you can totally see why people are wanting to have shares in this, can’t you?

Afterwards, Toreth wakes up in the meadow scene, to Warrick asking him what he thought. Toreth is still coming down from the bliss of the experience, and points out that it’s all recorded anyway, though Warrick says debriefing is part of the process.

“And you get off on hearing about it, don’t you?”

“Mm.” Warrick smiled. “That would be extremely unprofessional.”

Hehe. Warrick, the sexy, slightly mischievous control freak. I find it interesting, again, that Warrick can’t help but take that– something fairly personal, when you think about it– into his work– yet when Toreth is doing his thing (in a regular, not-having-sex-with-Warrick capacity of his professional role) he’s really not, and he’s already made a few efforts to remain professional in his thoughts even though he can reognise that he, say, wants Warrick (and even though he gives in to that).

Toreth agrees to provide the feedback, provided Warrick explains how SMS works. So Warrick explains that there’s a “temporary disconnection between sensory-input-stroke-processing and conscious awareness of the same,” demonstrating on Toreth’s body by running his moistened fingers over his nipples. Only able to feel it on one side– but noticing the way the other side of him reacts, Toreth gets an explanation:

“You didn’t feel that, did you?” Warrick asked. “Except that you did. The sim fed the sensation into your nervous system, it travelled up into your brain, was processed there, and you now have the memory of being touched on that side. It’s merely not consciously accessible to you yet. […]”

I was trying to think of a way to explain it simply and “in my own words,” but I think this is about as clear and as succinct as it gets.

Warrick touches the controls and suddenly Toreth get both the touch and the surreality of feeling it now when before there’d been no sensation.

The disjunction between seeing two touches, feeling one and remembering two left him disoriented and struggling for words. “Fucking hell… Christ, that’s– that’s so fucking weird.”

Randomly, there’s something else I love about the dialogue in here: Manna Francis’ characters talk– and yes, that includes when they swear– like people. “Fuck” isn’t just a word used to express anger or to be coarse or controversial– if you’re anything like me, you realise there are a whole range of perfectly valid uses of the word. Stubbed toe? “Fuck.” Bus driving away just as it comes into sight? “Fuck.” Weird-looking thing in the night sky emitting a green light to the ground? “Oh my” just doesn’t cut it, folks.

Afterwards, they head out together, and Warrick eventually says that if Toreth wants any more sessions in the sim, then he’s sure he could accommodate him.

Toreth smiled, enjoying, as he always did, the feeling of being pursued. Of having the power to refuse. Enjoying it enough that, rather than responding with one of the more final retorts from his repertoire of rejections, he said, “I’ll think about it.”

Hehe. I love his style. Yeah, okay, perhaps it’s completely insecure and manipulative and immature, but hey, it’s also perfectly believable and human.

That drew not a flicker of emotion in response. “Well, let me know.”

Oh, Warrick, I love how you’re not rising to him.

Piqued by the lack of reaction, Toreth said, “Aren’t we due a real-world fuck, in any case?”

That got a response, if only a small one, a catch in Warrick’s breathing before he said carefully, “I suppose so, if you wish to keep score.”

See what I mean about how you could sit here forever and watch the back-and-forthing of their dialogue? I love these two. Seriously, they are awesome. And so perfect together because there’s that push-and-pull and desire to not give in.

“That would be delightful.” Mask back in place again, which made shattering it with the next sentence that much more fn.

“Should I bring something this time? Cuffs from work?”

*cackles* Oh, you romantic, Toreth.

“Well, I– ah.” Warrick licked his lips, and then grinned, suddenly abandoning all pretense of detachment. “Yes. I’d like that a great deal, I suspect. Shall we say eight? The Anchorage is very nice and quite out of the way.”

Interesting; Toreth quite clearly threw him off with that suggestion, and yet by the end of that conversation, Warrick’s back to steering the direction of things. Yay subtle shifts in power!

When Toreth nodded, Warrick turned and left at once. Toreth watched him go, mildly irritated to find himself smiling. The man refused to react as Toreth expected, and that was perversely intriguing. No time to dwell on it; he had a meeting scheduled with Tillotson, which was more joy he didn’t need.

Waiting for his taxi back to I&I, Toreth thinks about the SMS in the sim, resalising why Warrick is so invested in it as a commercial venture, and why Tanit is concerned about addictiveness of such a thing.

If he personally had free access to something like that, would he ever leave the house again? Forget that, would be even leave the sim long enough to eat?

For all his indifference and unawareness about a lot of things, Toreth does have some serious libido going on. While I can see the appeal of the sim in this capacity… I can also imagine that it would eventually get boring after awhile for me. But for someone like Toreth? Different story, hey?

It took two people, though– at the moment– and presumably required a certain amount of expertise on the part of the… what would the word be? Dominant and submissive didn’t seem to apply, although there was a certain passivity to the experience. In that way, it had been, on reflection, a little unsatisfying.

Hehe. I love that it’s that aspect which makes him think twice about it.

He thinks about the commercial application of the sim and who would be responsible for trying to sabotage it, and figures that since he’s got no leads, he’ll at least get the weekend off, and he considers asking Sara for a Friday night hangout.

Mind Fuck, Manna Francis; Chapter Eleven

“It’s unnatural, that’s what it is,” Toreth told his coffee.

Chevril looked up from his borrowed copy of the JAPI. “Must be something bloody odd if you think so.” From his vantage point of long years of faithful marriage, he vocally disapproved of Toreth’s lifestyle.

“No one can be as nice a guy as Jon Teffera and manage a successful corporation,” Toreth elaborated. “It’s not natural.”

Toreth’s frustrated. What looked like a high-profile case involving a business with cutting-edge technology being sabotaged seems to be going nowhere, and it’s looking more likely to be about tech!fail than anything else. He can’t figure out wtf is going on; after wading through all the paperwork, there seems to be no reason why any of it would have happened deliberately, and Teffera, as he’s noted, is well-liked and an all-round nice guy. Even his brother and sister are nicer than the average corporates; there’s no discernible motive that he can find, and even mulling over things with Chevril doesn’t seem to be giving him fresh insight.

One thing does come across though, and again, it’s a clever use of narrative; if things weren’t 100% clear in the last chapter, they’re summarised and explained from another angle. (It’s one of those little tricks that I took for granted and didn’t really pay much attention to until actually reading the book in this capacity, which shows that it’s been used effectively, too. Yet again, the environment feels effortlessly normal, too.) And here we get two things that I love: dialogue between two characters I adore– and some understanding of how they work. For all his griping about the workplace, Chevril comes across as astute and competent; he considers possibilities and he’s happy to discuss with Toreth what’s going on. I like their relationship; they bounce ideas around and they’re neutrally friendly and helpful towards one another. I can imagine already with what we know about I&I (that given the nature of some of their work, there are going to be people working there who have anti-social traits to some degree at least, that given the role itself– one where the workers have power and authority– certain types of people will be attracted to the work to begin with; and given that it’s a government organisation with potential movement up a hierarchy) such relationships could be quite rare. There seems to be genuine cameraderie and respect between Toreth and Chevril, and it’s nice. I will admit a certain weakness for their dialogue, too: they’re, well, fun together. (And no, not like that. But… If someone wants to convince me otherwise by writing Toreth/Chevril, though, don’t let that stop you. Actually: convince me. This fandom needs more fic.)

Toreth is at his wits end: he’s spent just under a week trudging through paperwork, reading enormous case files (including Jon Teffera’s; where his primary focus has been at the moment) and as he tells Chevril, “They’re so clean there almost has to be something wrong somewhere.”

Chevril suggests it might be personal.

“So what does that leave? Someone couldn’t put up with his charming smile? Or how about an affair with someone’s wife– that’s usually a good one.”

I like that Chevril considers something so typical– and boring– but human.

“Or husband,” Toreth said, just to provoke the grimace of distaste from Chevril.

And I love that Toreth does things like that. Yet they’re still buddies. Toreth, in many ways, is perfectly distanced and blase about other people’s opinions of him, and it makes him impartial. (Though it doesn’t stop him being a bit of a shitstirrer when the time is right.) Later on down the track there’s an example of his seeing through damning evidence and not being biased in a way one could feasibly expect of him: it’s both believable given his position (where, as he says to one of his prisoners, he doesn’t care what they call him: he’s already been called everything before) and his general work ethic and attitude towards his fellow humans.

[Chevril] duly obliged, nose wrinkling. “I suppose so. So was he?”

“Not in the real world. Paraplegic.”

“Let me guess– not at all bitter about it?”

“You’re getting the hang of it. You can add bravery and a helping of noble suffering to the all-round sugary niceness.”

“I can feel my teeth rotting.”

 

*chuckles* I love their dialogue. It feels natural, and I love that they’re both a couple of snarky-arsed cynics about people in their own way: again, it’s thoroughly believable for both of them, and the sort of acquired– or possibly sought-after trait that comes with their line of work.

They continue discussing the case, and included with Toreth’s frustration at the (lack of) progression, Tillotson’s riding his arse.

“Okay, I give up. So what have you got?”

“Fuck all. No, tell a lie; a ton of files and a fuckload of waspy little memos from Tillotson. Buzzing in every five minutes. I think he’s got a nest of the fucking things in his office. Half of them are telling me to get a move on, half of them are telling me not to piss off any corporates while I’m doing it.”

 

Chevril nodded, looking almost sympathetic. “I get Kel to deal with those.”

“I told Sara this afternoon that if I see another one, I’m going to hard copy the lot, take them to Tillotson’s office and ram them down whatever bodily orifice I find first.” Chevril snorted. “Let me know when you do, so I can sell tickets. […]”

 

I love that the Chevril seems to delight in Toreth’s irritation as much as Toreth seems to delight in Chevril’s discomfort about his sexuality. I guess, to a point, that some part of you has to be a bit of a stirrer– and you would get– or come in with– a rather odd sense of humour in I&I.

Chevril turns his attention to Kelly’s death, and assumes, like Toreth has, that LiveCorp appears to be the target because it would be overkill to bring down SimTech’s credibility by killing someone like Jon Teffera. But it’s in his nature to play Devil’s advocate, and he points out that a high-profile death like that will definitely draw attention to SimTech so it could have been directed at them, because people are going to notice… and possibly draw the conclusion that the sim is dangerous and a bad investment– and therefore withdraw sponsorship.

Chevril, out of ideas, asks with some level of exasperation why he bothers and wonders why he doesn’t just handball it over to Justice. But… that’s not what Toreth does. His nature– and his work ethic– aren’t like that. Toreth likes cracking things. His cases are problems which need to be tidied up and which he needs to exert some sort of control over. Even the way he handles his detainees and interview subjects amounts to the idea that they’re vessels which in likelihood contain information which he can use. His dehumanisation of them is both non-biased and yet, still haunting.

Before leaving, we get another bit of insight into both Chevril and I&I:

“Oh, listen to this first, though: my prisoner finally turned up. And guess what?”

“She’s your long-lost sister?”

(Let’s reflect on that for just a smidgeon of a moment. Imagine the conflict of interest if you were working at I&I and a relative of yours was a suspect. I’ll just leave that thought with you and carry on.)

Chevril rolled his eyes. “No, of course not. After all that bloody fuss over the m-f, days of filling in forms and Tillotson sticking his pointy nose in, the silly bitch went and confessed, first session. I didn’t even unwrap an injector. I could kill her.”

It’s little moments like this when we become aware of what actually goes on in I&I– and the capacity they have for making things happen.

Toreth grinned. “Is she annexed?”

 

I shouldn’t have laughed, but I did. I can totally imagine I&I being one of those workplaces where you develop a rather odd sense of humour as a buffer or a coping mechanism. Or where you wind up hired because you’re a bit damaged to begin with. Later in the series eligibility for I&I roles is touched upon, but already, stuff like this gives you a clear idea of the environment. One where jokes about wanting to kill someone because they’ve caused you paperwork headaches are a bit closer to literal than they are in most work environments.

“No, they want her alive for the trial.” Chevril slapped his palm with the rolled-up JAPI. “I tell you, between the bloody prisoners and the bloody management, as soon as I find a decent job, I’m out of here.”

God I love Chevril. Yes, he’s, to some degree, a monster. But I love the way he’s written; he’s so believable and his frustration is very real.

 

Toreth reads over his interviews, still searching for a lead in on any information, noting that the friends and relatives investing in SimTech are a lot more confident than the commericial investors. He notices that Warrick’s sister, Dillian, is genuinely worried, while the corporates aren’t saying much and seem to be hiding behind “commercial confidentiality.” Toreth initially assumes that Teffera’s death was having its desired effect in spooking them.

Or perhaps the killer was selecting sim users genuinely at random, in which case the investigation was probably fucked from the start. Or the sim was killing users. Or one or both deaths were due to natural causes. Too many possibilities.

 

I can only imagine the frustration, and I love that it’s written in a manner that brings it on home for the readers. Every variable adds another complication to the mystery and something else getting in the way of the truth. By this point, I was seriously wondering if the sim was killing people (or if it had been set up to do so) and thinking that it would be a royal pain in the ars for a guy who’s basically trained in psychology and rooting out people’s secrets having to deal with a big mechanical failure issue or thereabouts. (When I purchased Mind Fuck, I wasn’t aware of the fact that there were more books in the series. I didn’t know about Manna Francis’ website. I assumed it was a standalone, one-off we-won’t-see-these-people-again novel, by the way.)

He decides that Chevril made a decent point in mentioning that the more recent death is probably a better place to focus his attention and decides to go back to SimTech and have a chat to Warrick. Before doing that, he watches the hypothetical observer record of Kelly Jarvis’ sim time, viewing what appears to be some sort of sensory information gathering (which, “[f]or fuck research, it was very dull”) involving Kelly and Yang –the tech who was the first to see and realise that she was dead– and, afterwards, Kelly’s earned recreational use of the sim. He can’t find anything, and realises, with frustration, that these were probably the last moments of Kelly’s life and there is nothing there that’s at all suspicious. Once again, he suspects that the sim killed her, though the security “fault” at reception offers too much of a “coincidence” for him.

Warrick’s tidying up in his office when Toreth arrives to ask him about the more recent death. Again, he’s amiable and cooperative with the investigation, though there’s a crackle of *something* there which Toreth can’t quite shake and which he can’t quite put a name to.

He’d forgotten over the last few days how attractive the man was. Not classically handsome, but compelling in a way Toreth couldn’t define. Was it his confidence? Or maybe it was the contrast between his current self-assurance and the still vivid memory […] In control.

For the record, I always imagined Warrick as looking like a less-pretty Jack Harkness. With a bigger nose, and slightly imperfect features, but an intensity and focus in his expression that’s not just explained with “can seduce the camera like whoa.” When I started watching Blake’s 7, I was completely “OMG, YES, he’s like Warrick!” about Avon, because the dry humour and his timing and even the tone of his voice was just so easy to place with Warrick. So, um, yeah: I can totally get that Warrick mightn’t look like a conventional pretty boy but that he’s seriously interesting because of his intensity and just the way that he holds himself.

Also, as we know about Toreth, the man likes cracking things. He’s not afraid of a challenge. Hell, in the first moments of Toreth realising that Warrick was interesting, the observation was made because he’d picked that Warrick was a control freak– and therein lay the challenge.

Toreth never fucked suspects– not during the investigation anyway– but the temptation tugged at him now, unexpectedly strong. Not lust so much as a desire to crack through Warrick’s defenses.

 

Just in case it hasn’t already been established, Toreth fucking rules. One thing I truly have to give him is that in spite of the fact that a lot of the time, he’s ironically completely lacking in self-awareness– here is a different story. He unapologetically wants this guy not because he’s nice to look at, not because of some sort of external yearning for sex or misplaced substituted desire for someone else, but because he wants control. No, it’s not nice. Yes, it’s very human. And no: it’s not something that gets written very often, and usually when it is, it isn’t done particularly well. All too often characters with this bent either turn into a romantic hero in the middle of the sex scene, or they’re Christian Grey levels of horrifying (intentionally horrifying or otherwise). Two things on this: a) this is still a better love story than Twilight, and b) yes, I still say this even though not a great deal has actually happened– emotionally, at least, anyway– between Toreth and Warrick. I don’t think Toreth has conceptualised him as human in the same way that, say, Sara or even Chevril are human to him.

 “I’m not offering a general invitation by the way,” Warrick continued. “I don’t want your less proficient subordinates eating up my time with inane questions.”

Oh, Belqola.

Pausing in his tidying, he gave Toreth a slight smile that didn’t match his acid tone. “You, however, are always welcome.”

And if that wasn’t perfectly obvious, I don’t know what was, but I can already see flirting like this in most fic going completely over the head of the character being flirted with. Think about it: romance loves its misconstrued flirtations or characters who are blinded by their own interests to see what’s being offered. It’s the tropiest trope in tropesville. Hell, the first ninety-odd pages of a certain other thing I’m reading are all about the most Captain Obvious attempted seduction ever, and yet the intended recipient of these “hints” is dead convinced that no way in hell would this guy like her like that.

And you know what? I actually love drawn-out seduction. I love it when a writer makes me just about bounce off the furniture going, “JUST DO IT ALREADY.” I also really, really think headgames can be completely sexy under particular circumstances. (They can also be creepy and interesting because of that, especially when one party looks like they’re completely being dicked around and they’re actually more clued-in than it seemed, or something happens that totally changes the game, too.) One of the appealing things with Warrick and Toreth is all the power issues and the fact that nothing about them feels tired and cliched: even though it didn’t take them long to wind up having relations, it wasn’t like that was some sort of climatic point and everything else following was either just icing on the cake– or worse yet– going downhill.  And in this instance, I love that they aren’t fucking around in the non-literal sense, because too much ambiguity would be stupid in their scenario: it needs to be blunt and bold. Neither of these guys is ambiguous: both seem to know when they want something (well… sex is pretty much the only thing Toreth can recognise he has a want for, emotionally speaking) and since they’re both fairly headstrong, blunt people, they do away with the coy shit. It rocks. Better yet, down the track, they actually communicate about stuff. Toreth might be kind of shit at dealing with his own emotional shit, but honestly, both of them, and their relationship, are only a gazillion times healthier than certain other– like, just about every other— fictional romantic couple even written. And it’s a fucking joy to read.

I’ll be fair: I think I have a “type” when it comes to pairings. I love Phoenix and Miles in the Ace Attorney series for the same reason: they’re both equally-matched, assertive, successful people who compliment one another. (They even have a similar dynamic, if you focus on certain canon happenings as big issues for them). I kind of love my favourite not-canon-stretch-of-the-imagination pairing in that fandom, too (Kristoph Gavin and Matt Engarde, for anyone who knows the series); while they have their differences, they can each hold their own. Even if one party is sexually submissive, it doesn’t mean sweet FA about him when they’re not having sex.

 

Ahem: Toreth and Warrick. I love the way there’s no wanking around with these two, no drawing out stuff that doesn’t need to be drawn out. I love that the seduction doesn’t happen with the sex being some kind of end point, but part of the scenery along the way– the journey is about them finding intimacy and trust and things they can’t find elsewhere. It’s about their lives, the way they relate to one another, their associates, their jobs, their family, the conspiracies and mysteries and government surrounding them. It’s so much more interesting and believable and three-dimensional like this. And it’s cool: all too often science-fiction futuristic dystopia lacks the human stuff—or the intimacy and fun of, well, people. It’s a bit like comparing the movie of Sleepers to the book: in the movie, you saw what was happening and how awful it was, but when you read the book… you knew who it was happening to and you came to give a shit a whole lot more.

 He didn’t give himself any more time to think about it, nor did he want to. As Warrick turned away again, Toreth took hold of him, pushing him back against the desk, stifling a surprised protest with a firm kiss. After a couple of minutes, Warrick pulled back, breathing raggedly. “Door. We should—the door. Lock it,” he said, with flattering incoherence.

Okay, firstly, that was kind of hot. Secondly, you can see how potentially problematic this situation could be between the two of them: remember, earlier, when Warrick asked if Toreth thought he was crazy wanting to go back to his hotel room given their differences in strength and build and ability? Toreth could fuck your shit up. Toreth could have continued what he was doing even if Warrick most definitely didn’t want it. (Theoretically; with what we, the readers, know of Toreth, I can’t imagine him lowering himself to raping someone. Especially not Warrick: and that was discussed earlier. Furthermore: the guy has pride. If Warrick didn’t want him, at this stage, Toreth would be more likely to straighten himself up, coolly leave, then go get drunk and pick up some random and lick his wounds in relative privacy.

Yet… if it weren’t for this pride and his own internal values system and desire to stay out of trouble… he could be incredibly, seriously dangerous. Therein lies the appeal for Warrick, of course.)

Anyway, they have epic officesex. The writing rules: it’s quick and efficient and, well, kinda hot. And the attention paid to the little details that a lot of writers miss when writing sex rules, too: there are more hints in the aftermath than in the actual sex.

 

Afterwards, as more calculating thought returned, Toreth watched Warrick wiping his fingers clean with a tissue and refastening his clothes, and wondered what the fuck he’d just done.

Ever the professional, isn’t he? He recognises that while he shouldn’t be screwing witnesses—not like that, anyway—before an investigation—  as long as the investigation goes well, he’s probably not going to get into too much trouble. (Considering Tillotson annoying him all the time about annoying corporates, and then this—it just shows how much power the corporates have, doesn’t it?)

But—

This was different. It was, in fact, insane. If Warrick gave any hint of the fuck to anyone…

So there’s considerable risk involved for him, too. Interesting.

Toreth was still trying to come up with a request for discretion without too much desperation in it, when Warrick spoke. “I take it,” he said meditatively, “that lies somewhere outside your standard interview techniques.”

*giggles*

Toreth nodded, trying to keep his voice steady. “Somewhat.”

Did I ever say that I fucking love these two and that by this point in the series, I was actually wanting them to just interact lots and lots and lots solely because of their exchanges like this? (And also, okay, because the sex is hot. In the interest of being perfectly honest, I’ll be honest about that.)

“Then I shall be sure not to mention it to anybody.” Warrick flashed a brilliant smile. “Although perhaps you should suggest it to your superiors. It certainly puts me in a very helpful mood.”

Handled both cooperatively and suavely.

They then move onto the other reason for the visit (can anyone else imagine if things hadn’t worked out so well or there’d been too much awkwardness afterwards? Toreth could have seriously fucked—no pun intended—the investigation, couldn’t he?) and discuss Kelly Jarvis’s work. Warrick explains that she was largely funded by the Tefferas’ corporation, and talks about Kelly’s research and how it relates to the sim and its development. They talk about her change in research projects, and Warrick mentions that she’d only been on the second project for six months before she died.

Toreth brings up that there’d been a disciplinary notice on her record from around that time, and asks about it. Warrick admits that that had partially been a reason for the change in her work.

Kelly had worked with Tara Scrivin, and Tara became mentally ill. Warrick explains that the workplace psychologist believes it was due to excessive sim exposure, even though it’s clear that he doesn’t believe that’s the case.

They divert a bit and discuss Dr. Tanit, who Warrick refers to as being “highly professional,” which sounds like a cool respect for her abilities at least.

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.”

Interesting. And kudos for his lack of taking disagreement personally.

Kelly had been not helping the issue by giving Tara extra time—her own personal time—in the sim. Warrick explains that workers would often share or exchange time in the sim with one another, though after that incident and advice from Dr. Tanit, the practise has been banned.

SimTech had paid for Tara’s treatment and kept the details of the episode where she lost it (that she was planning a murder-suicide for herself and an ex-boyfriend) out of Tara’s personal files, and allowed her to return to work.

“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 program—analysis and modelling—which doesn’t require sim usage. We don’t abandon our employees and students.”

Godammit, who wouldn’t want to work there? Most organisations I’ve known will do anything they can to get out of admitting fault when they have quite clearly fucked up their staff, and will use all sorts of means to get rid of them afterwards.

Warrick admits that turfing someone that tarnished would make them virtually unemployable, and that he can recognise that she’s talented and hard-working. I love the way he thinks—it’s something I referred to earlier in his attitude towards Dr. Tanit— it’s also something he shares with Toreth, who, in a later episode,  sees beyond a set of actions from one person and looks at the complete package. It makes it a LOT easier to like both of them as people (rather than just as well-written characters) because it’s a rare trait. But it’s one similarity which seems to cancel out a lot of the differences these two have.

Warrick describes Tara Scrivin to Toreth in vague terms; she seems a bit fey, a bit vulnerable, and sweetly childlike. And he isn’t impressed with the fact that Toreth wants to ask her about the incident.

“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.”

Oh god. Nice reminder of what you’re attracted to, Warrick. And that he can. And that he will.

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?”

Warrick explains that sense-memory stacking is “one of the fringe developments on the sex side of the sim program” and that it’s highly technical and requires “a greater degree of direct manipulation of the brain.” Toreth inquires about the safety of this, and Warrick explains that it’s no less safe than anything else regarding the sim’s use, and that there are, of course, safety precautions in place. When Toreth asks about Dr. Tanit’s concerns, Warrick says she’s merely worried about addiction issues (Hey! That was my thinking, too!). When Toreth asks how it works, and Warrick explains that there’s a space-and-time issue with it in the sim, he offers him a demonstration to assist explanation.

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.

 

Toreth reads through Dr. Tanit’s statement to B-C before visiting her, noticing that in regards to Kelly’s death, the two of them have provided stable alibis (which have been confirmed) for one another. But there’s little information on Tanit herself, and as Toreth notes, she was the one who initially called Justice after Kelly’s death because “it simply seemed like the right thing to do.”

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.

Anyway, enter Dr. Tanit.

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.

Being an expert in psychology, she obviously knows what Toreth is, and what he does. She doesn’t seem too happy to see him, either, and when Toreth starts asking questions, she’s a closed book citing “confidential information” as a reason for her inability to talk. When Toreth points out that he can get a warrant to get her to talk, she tells him to.

But before leaving, Toreth asks if she’s going to cite commercial confidentiality issues once the interviewing post warrant occurs. She suggests again that Tara’s excessive immersion is the only thing commercially sensitive but she can’t talk about it because of her contract. Toreth leaves and gets Sara onto getting warrants happening.

When he gets the warrant, he is back to Dr. Tanit and her explanation, and he looks around her office; there are little personal touches reminding him that she’s got kids of her own.

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.

Interesting. I love the little hints like this which suggest far broader things about the world of the Administration, and it’s interesting when you consider that even these sorts of measures aren’t necessarily perfect or beyond human “cracking”: there are still exploitable loopholes. Toreth’s consideration that a psychologist would find it easier to pass psych testing is one that would still ring true in the world nowadays.

To get personal for a moment, too: an admission of bias. Psychological testing fascinates me and has always done so—maybe interests can be genetically hardwired to a degree? My father was an organisational psychologist who did a lot of work in testing potential applicants for roles in large corporations. I didn’t exactly grow up around psych testing—I actually didn’t really know what my dad did until I was about ten or eleven—and it wasn’t like he spent a great deal of time with us as kids. But even since I can remember, psych testing—and the issues surrounding it—have absolutely fascinated me. And I’m currently working in a job where rigorous psychological testing has been employed as part of the selection process (while I’m glad I wasn’t subjected to it when I was hired, I’m dying to find out what I missed out on) so I always find it interesting when it gets mentioned in fiction. It’s a day-to-day reality for most of us, but this is the first time in fiction (which isn’t specifically about stuff in a psych setting) I’ve seen which gives it a decent mention and consideration. Later in the series it crops up, too: psychology, still being debated as an art or science in today’s world—seems to have some pretty serious believers and it appears that testing is revered and utilised a lot in a number of areas.

(I would have TOTALLY encouraged my dad to read the series if it had been around when he was alive, even though I think the explicit gay sex would have probably freaked him out a bit: I think he’d have appreciated the setting and the consideration that went into the details, and like me, he was a psychological thriller fan. [I’ll admit, though, I’m trying to get my Mum to read the series even though she loathes psychological thrillers and I think Toreth will freak her out for a variety of reasons… she likes mysteries and good writing, though. See? Something for everyone.])

Tanit clearly believes that the sim is responsible for the deaths, and she has other concerns about it, too.

“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 any consequences. To vulnerable personality types it can be powerfully attractive.”

Bada-bing. This was one of my first considerations about it, too. Though counter to that is the obvious: no everyone who  uses drugs is going to become an addict, not everyone who buys a lotto ticket is a problem gambler, not everyone who polishes off a bottle of Bacardi Pina Colada one night because they’re bored and it tastes nice (why yes, that might have some part in the delay in my updating… I did lose a couple of nights thanks to that) is an alcoholic, not everyone who enjoys some time in the sim is going to be living in lala land for the rest of theirs. But like fireworks and Dyewitness and the internet, all it takes is for a couple of idiots to fuck things up, and then the authorities decide something is bad news for everyone. Pfft.

Perfect place for a control freak like Warrick, too.

Interesting that while Toreth notes something so blatantly obvious, it probably wasn’t something Dr. Tanit was considering. Or maybe she was.

Tanit goes on to explain that Tara created a room in the sim: her boyfriend’s flat, and with her sim time, took out a lot of her rage against the guy. Tanit says with all the time she spent in the sim doing this, her concept of reality became skewed with the sim’s reality, and mentions that she even wrote an academic paper about what happened.

“Unpublished? SimTech suppressed it?”

She shook her head. “Your words, not mine, Para-Investigator. It’s publication is not considered commercially appropriate.”

This is the bit where I’m raising eyebrows about what corporations can get away with, though comparing this stuff to things which have recently happened in our world today, I’m hard-pressed to see how this is any worse than, say, the legislation that was passed in the States which forbids people from exposing animal abuse in factory farms, or certain political figures paying scientists to say that climate change is a myth. Or, say, everything ever that Gina Rinehart has been getting up to lately, with her desire to suppress particular media content. This stuff isn’t happening in some faraway dystopia, it’s happening now. What’s presented– or not presented– as the truth goes to the highest bidder.

Tanit explains that Tara’s all right now, though with Kelly’s death, she’s obviously upset, even to the point of blaming herself because of Kelly getting into trouble for her involvement in the “time share” issue earlier. They also talk about how there are now improved measures to stop this from happening in future, thanks to Dr. Tanit fighting for it, and that now she’s got the power to interview heavy sim users and suspend them if she believes it’s necessary. She states there are a few bans every month, and casually—that she’s got the ability to control access to every sim in the world.

Toreth continues the interview and they discuss the safety measures, and Warrick, and then the sim itself again. When Toreth asks if she thinks the sim is killing people, Tanit stalls, talking about the fact that there is a clause in her contract preventing her from discussing the sim in, apparently, anything more than abstract terms.

“That doesn’t apply during an investigation.”

Tanit turned the screen back towards her and leaned back in her chair. “I would be interested in seeing the legal basis for that statement, Para-Investigator.”

“I—“ Toreth stopped. He’d said those words so many times with such confidence, but never quite in 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.

Interesting, and again very much believable. How many times do people say “That’s illegal!” and then when questioned a bit about where exactly in law it’s illegal, the response waters down to “Well, it should be.” Or how many times do authorities ask for things– security guards in shops asking to see the contents of small bags, for example– and people will oblige without question?

Tanit continues on, not explicitly stating that she believes the sim killed anyone, though with an ambiguity which suggests that she’s not overly confident in the technology and that SimTech has something to hide.

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 scrutinizing the JAPI long ago. “Why are you still working here if you think the thing’s dangerous?”

Interesting. While the subject is clearly Tanit, the idea that Toreth has some level of belief in the system becomes abundantly clear here, even though he never really comes across as political. And again, thinking about I&I, it makes you wonder about people like Chevril, who are cynics: do they believe in the system, or are they just there for the ride and the paycheck? (And come to think of it, Chevril does look older than he should, doesn’t he?) I still love Toreth’s work ethic, too, quite randomly; there’s an honesty about him doing work that he believes in, I guess.

Tanit says after this that her job is more or less to promote safety of the sim, and that she believes it will be successful. I can understand her logic here.

“Do you have any more questions?”

“No, not at the moment.” Hands braced on the back 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.”

It seemed almost weird to think about Toreth having a mother, for some reason, when I first read this line. You get so absorbed into his identity as Para-Investigator Toreth, and so accustomed to his overriding work ethic, the requirements of his job which—at this point—are sort of ominiously hinted at rather than explicitly detailed—and his seemingly casual headfucking other people to get what he wants from them. But there’s that one throwaway mention—which he didn’t need to make at all, but which came across as almost challenging to Dr. Tanit. While he’s spent the past however long getting answers from her and trying to unravel her attempts at tangling up the truth in corporate restrictions, he’s said nothing of himself. He hasn’t needed to. His job, like hers, as Warrick stated earlier—isn’t to be liked. He doesn’t have to be friendly or offer anything of himself to her.) Tanit, presumably, knows what he is, and given her credentials, likely has an idea of the sort of person who is able to do the job he does.

Yet he drops that one little hint about himself. Interesting.

 

Following this, he meets up with Mistry, his soft-touch junior—and they have a chat to Tara Scrivin.

She was tiny, less than one metre fifty tall, and lightly built. She had bright red hair, and 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.

Good thing Mistry’s there.

 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 uniforms of I&I employees.

This is so seriously easy to imagine and relate to. How many people will freeze up or freak out when they know cops are around even if they’re not doing the wrong thing? Uniforms have that effect on people, too; it’s a detail Manna Francis refers to every now and then through the series, but it’s dead on and realistic; it’s not the sort of thing that only happens once in the course of a story, but multiple times, dependent on how many new characters come in. And it’s completely believable with poor little fragile Tara.

Toreth even starts talking to her as though she’s a kid being interrogated (yes, consider this for a moment; this is a world where it’s perfectly okay for the government to interrogate kids) but then actually realises he’s doing that and mentally pulls himself up. He realises that she’s scared that he’s going to ask about the breakdown—let’s face it: who likes being asked about sensitive, highly stigmatised mental health isssues?

Anyway, he asks her about it. Tara explains that she’s been back for a couple of months, and that she spent a month in hospital. She seems hazy about it but says that it was good for her and that she doesn’t hold anything against Kelly, and that she wouldn’t hurt her.

Mistry leaned forward. “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.

Interesting: clearly Dr. Tanit and her advice are held in high regard—maybe not by the higher-ups at SimTech, but definitely by the worker ants.

“And what did you think?”

“I’d—“ She shrugged her narrow shoulders. “I liked living with Kelly, and she said ti was okay for me to stay. But it was one of the conditions of keeping my studentship.”

So Dr. Tanit does have some pull there.

The other conditions, Tara explains, were not going in the sim, doing a different project, and having counselling with Dr. Tanit. She’s calmed down a bit, too, though when Mistry asks her about leaving Kelly’s flat, she admits she wasn’t pleased about having to leave, though she’s willing to accept that it’s understandable that it was a condition. Tanit and Warrick even pulled strings for her by talking to the university.

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.

Oh, well played, Ms. Francis. Seriously, well fucking played.

I hadn’t watched Blake’s 7 prior to reading the series… actually, I only started watching it after the last read-through, when I’d hit the end of the last book and was wanting MOAR ADMINISTRATION and well, there isn’t any more, and unlike my other fandoms, there isn’t any sort of side stuff, there isn’t a whole lot of meta or fanfiction, there’s no kink meme… so I was trying to get my hands on anything even remotely related to the series. Which of course… is Blake’s 7. (Watch it, people. But… note that you may find yourself getting weirdly fangirly when the Administration crop up even when you know they’re the bad guys. It’s… awkward.)

In the very first episode—The Way Back—one of the characters mentions that the Administration is drugging the water to keep citizens under control. Prior to my understanding, it was believable, and just Toreth being snarky—now… well, yeah: nicely done.

Tara talks about her last moments with Kelly and then about how she saw Dr. Tanit afterwards and then the two of them went back to her room since there was an issue with Dr. Tanit’s appointments and Tara would have missed out on her rehabituation session in the sim the next morning.

They talk a little about Kelly again, and Toreth can see that Tara is getting upset, and he stops the interview since he’d promised that he would be gentle with her.

After deciding that sending Mistry to talk to Tanit would be a fruitless exercise, the two of them head back to I&I. Toreth thinks over what’s happened and since he’s got no new leads and he’s not a tech guy, he starts having regrets about getting involved. Hopefully the demo he’s been invited to on Friday will offer something. .

Mind Fuck, Manna Francis; Chapter Ten

It’s the next day, and paperwork is showing up for Toreth to sort out. Remember, it’s a government bureaucracy, and is need to be dotted and ts crossed. All is surprisingly in order.

Time to begin arranging specialists for dispatch to SimTech to take the corporation apart for his entertainment and education.

Interesting, and again, it suggests to me that Toreth is more interested in cracking something—to see how it works—than motivated purely by destructive or mean tendencies. He might not possess Warrick’s sharpness of mind and imagination, but he seems to have some level of curiousity and interest in understanding—or solving things. Combined with a rather off-colour sense of humour, though, I guess it doesn’t exactly make him look noble.

He goes to see Sara to start sorting out the specialists’ involvement, and as he’s headed there, he can hear—and see—Belqola chatting to her. (And behold: I fucking LOVE the scene that follows.)

“I wondered if he’d said anything,” Belqola said. “About my being late yesterday.”

“Why on earth would he say anything to me?” Sara asked.

 

Toreth eased the door open another crack, because he suspected Belqola was about to make a serious tactical mistake vis-à-vis life on Toreth’s team.

“Well—“ The junior shrugged. “You two are… aren’t you?”

“Are what?” Sara inquired in frosty tones.

“Together. Seeing each other?”

You know, part of me actually cringes for Belqola. He seems so young and clueless and wet behind the ears that it’s almost embarrassing watching him stumble around. He reminds me of a brighter Ana Steele without all the self-esteem problems, just the same sort of social stupidity. I mean, seriously, why the fuck would you bring something like that up—and then why would you ask something like that? Clearly the man’s not stupid because he’s working where he is, and apparently he got top marks in the training, but one would assume that working in such a role you’d either have some social ability. Or you’d be able to fake some. Or, failing that, keep your trap shut.

Barret-Connor, one of Toreth’s other staff, has been watching the whole thing, too, and he’s watching Toreth, who gestures for him to keep quiet.

Sara stood up. Twenty centimetres shorter than Belqola, she nevertheless managed to leave no doubt about who was intimidating whom. “Are you suggesting I’d be so unprofessional as to sleep with my boss?” she asked, dangerously quiet.

Toreth grinned. God, she had a lovely way of phrasing it. Yes or no were both disastrous, so Belqola won points for hitting the only possible escape.

“I’m sorry, really, I am.” Then he blew it. “You’re always going out with him in the evening, that’s all, so I assumed—“

Oh dear. Just… *cringe*.

“Assumed?” Heads were starting to come up around the office. Toreth noticed one or two people making comm calls, alerting absent friends to the show. “You just assumed, did you? Maybe I look like the type who has to screw around to get a decent posting?”

 

You know that saying “Quit while you’re ahead”? Clearly Belqola doesn’t.

“Well, I asked a couple of—“

“So you’ve been gossiping about me as well?” Coming from Sara, the accusation would’ve left anyone who knew her helpless with laughter. Belqola, poor bastard, merely spent a while working on his fish-out-of-water impersonation. Sara left him to squirm until the moment he started to say something, then she said, “For your information, Junior Para-investigator, I have never slept with anyone I work for and I never will sleep with anyone I work for. And if I did, you’d know without talking behind my back, because I’d resign the next day.”

Did I tell you people I love Sara? Seriously, she rocks. And even though she’s subordinate to Toreth, she’s fucking smart. She so easily could have been a backgroundish assistant type who just made the odd joke and who dealt with Toreth’s paperwork, but she’s not. And she’s feisty. And she sticks up for herself. And—whether it’s from transcribing hours of Toreth’s interrogations—or not—she’s bloody adept at dealing with people. And she’s not at all ashamed of the fact. She just does her thing and is awesome.

This was a lie, although Toreth wasn’t sure if it was an intentional one. He and Sara had fucked—just once—five years previously and a couple of years after she’d begun working for him. It had happened at the end of a long and very drunken  night, so drunken Sara hadn’t remembered anything in the morning, or at least had claimed not to.

This is interesting. My gut instinct after reading that was that Sara did remember and didn’t mention it because she didn’t want to put in a transfer and because quite clearly, that night hadn’t at all affected their working relationship in the sort of way that it could have, and that they both understood on some level that it was a one-off thing.

Toreth thinks about discussing it with her, but obviously not right now.

Belqola still continues trying to explain and excuse his douchiness, and Toreth interrupts it because there’s work to be done. He asks Sara to get the specialists happening, and Belqola to be in charge of the operation. Which is interesting: he’s still trusting the guy with heading up something in spite of his incompetence.

Later on, Toreth mockingly chides Sara for her attitude towards the junior Para, and Sara lets him know that he’s got an appointment with Teffera’s brother and sister, who apparently know about Kelly Jarvis.

 

Not very long after this, Jarvis’ preliminary post-mortem report arrives to Toreth.

 On the plus side, it was the same cause of death as for Teffera. On the downside, it was no kind of cause of death at all.

Toreth contacts forensics and asks about the non-descript “respiratory failure,” only to learn that they’re still trying to work out what happened, that it appears there were no drugs involved, and there’s no sign of suffocation.  Half an hour later, Sara’s got a call for him from the security systems  specialist, who’s got no evidence on who was in the building due to a technical glitch, and there ewas, of course, no backup recorded. There’s a possibility that it might have been deliberately tampered with, though like the post-mortem report, further investigation needs to take place.

 

And finally, to add to his stress, the new junior—two guesses as to which one (and the second guess doesn’t count) has been at SimTech, being his blundering brand of incompetent.

When Toreth gets over there, he realises that the person at SimTech Belqola is annoying is none other than Warrick. (At which point, I’m giggling. Obviously the guy has no idea and his ability to keep pissing off the wrong people—without really realising until it’s too late—is quite hilarious.)

 Warrick looked angry but under rigid self-control. Belqola looked frankly baffled by someone who simply refused to be intimidated by the I&I aura. “What’s going on?” Toreth asked.

Instead of answering, Warrick walked away to his office window, leaving Belqola to explain. “The systems team say that he’s refusing to hand the code over, Para,” Belqola said.

Toreth has no time for this shit and tells Belqola that they don’t need his permission and that the team can just take it. But of course there’s a complication: the code’s protected and access requires Warrick’s cooperation.

So Toreth assigns Belqola to check up on other specialists so he can deal with Warrick himself, and Belqola gratefully makes his exit, leaving Toreth to work his special brand of magic.

 Toreth joined Warrick at the window. “I have authority to demand the code. You’ve read the warrant; it’s all in order. I don’t want to start making threats, because we both know what I can do if I have to. Just do it.”

God. Can anyone else see this scene actually happening? This book is so annoying filled with moments of “This would translate so beautifully to screen” that after awhile it just gets depressing when you consider that it probably never will be. Seriously, folks, how easy is it to imagine Warrick standing by the window, looking unshakeable and calm, and Toreth approaching him and talking to him, in a perfectly rational and almost friendly but thoroughly dangerous way like this. It echoes back to the start of the book where he got his information from his detainee not through force, but through advising him what he could do.

And Warrick, meanwhile, is standing solid on this.

 “Not a chance.” Despite his pale. Set expression, Warrick didn’t sound angry, only immovable. If Belqola had been hearing this all morning, Toreth could appreciate why he’d been so keen to leave. He spent a moment considering the most profitable approach.

“Why not?” he asked, eventually.

Warrick smiles his unfriendly half smile. “Do you know, I’ve been talking to your colleague for what seems like hours and he never once asked that?”

“Belqola doesn’t care. Neither do I, actually, because you’ll have to do it in the end, but I am curious.”

Warrick turned away again and considered the question for a minute, looking out of the window at the gathering clouds. Then he sighed. “Sit down.”

And somehow, even though he’s fully aware of the predicament he’s in, he’s not really bending and he’s still holding his own beautifully.

 Not gracious, but Toreth accepted it as the concession it was. Warrick remained standing, pacing as he talked. “There are two reasons SimTech is still an independent enterprise. The first is that our sponsors know that ultimately they stand to make phenomenal amounts of money from the work we do here. We had sponsors cutting each other’s throats—rumours suggest literally in one or two cases—to be the ones who gave us development capital. As a result, we were able to negotiate contracts which don’t infringe on our control of the company.” Warrick paused. “That is the first reason. The second is that I control the source code.”

“Control it?”

“Physically control it. Only I have access to it. There is no way another company can get at it, or force me to give it to them.”

The first time I read this, I wondered what would happen if the Administration wanted it badly enough. And I got to wondering what would happen if push came to shove and Warrick wound up interrogated for the code.

It’s funny, though, because in the grand scheme of the investigation, it seems almost irrelevant. Yet Warrick looks as though he’d be ready to take that source code to the grave if he had to.

Warrick’s corporate saintliness was getting harder to believe. “And the rest of the directors are happy with this?”

“It’s in all our best interests to keep SimTech safe from corporate predation.”

“And that’s enough to keep it safe?”

Warrick admits that it’s one of a number of measures, though the most basic and fundamental.

 “What happens if you’re killed?”

Warrick smiled. “An excellent question. Briefly, I have a very long and detailed will, which is absolutely lawyer-proof. It releases all the sim technology into the public domain in the event of my death.”

 

Which is absolutely awesome and brilliant, isn’t it? As Warrick explains, he makes it a policy to be worth more alive than dead. And because of all this effort he’s gone to, he’s not just giving up the source code that easily, experts and investigation or not. Toreth realises that if he’s gone to such effort, he’s likely to destroy the code rather than get it interrogated out of him anyway. He tries reasoning with Warrick, explaining that the sim might have killed the two victims, and…

Warrick is adamant that it didn’t, though Toreth suggests that to clear the sim, the experts need to see the code. Warrick proposes a compromise, suggesting Toreth invite in the systems team leader for discussion.

In a short period of time, they come to an agreement;  the investigation team can work within the building in a secure room studying the code, though there are extremely tight security protocols to be followed and nothing is to leave the room that SimTech’s security don’t okay. No one can use comms in the room.

That sorted,  Toreth heads off to see Teffera’s relatives at LiveCorp.

 

Toreth wonders about the Teffera’s desire to cooperate, noting that if they’d wanted their brother’s death looked into by outsiders, they would have come to them sooner, and wonders about what really went on and if it was corporate sabotage.

Part of I&I’s function was to enforce Administration law and (far more nebulously defined) Administration will over the corporations. At the same time, they were expected to ensure that the corporations, and most particularly, the senior corporate figures, were allowed to go about their productive lives unmolested by resisters, criminals, or excessive corporate roughhousing.

It’s interesting: there seems to be a definite interest in looking after big business from the Administration, which could be comparable to the way law enforcement could be seen to be favoured towards certain sectors of the community right now, though by the same token, it also seems that in the world of the Administration, what the corporations get up to is both watched—and policed more heavily—than nowadays. (I can only imagine what someone like Gina Rinehart would think about the Administration keeping an eye on her business and probably saying “No, you can’t do that” to some of her dodgier ideas.) In a way, the Admininstration and the corporates seem to have a polar-opposites, yin-and-yang relationship, though, where they’re both reliant on one another and where they have to meet at a halfway compromise in order for things to, well, work. The relationship seems to be able more than corporations funding government and duping the people, though, so I am more optimistic about it than I am about the current system which we have (and which I’ve all but lost faith in, personally).

And again, I wonder: what the hell prompted the shift towards this sort of relationship between the government and the corporations? How far ahead in the future is this (we never know, from my understanding, which is well fucking played)?

Defining “excessive” was one part of the problem. The customary flexibility in the law where the rich were concerned—labelled “corporate privilege” by resisters—was a murky area. Still, once corporate sabotage escalated to killing, the Administration preferred to step in and put a stop to it.

I love this whole section of description and I love that as readers, we’re treated to this stuff in little descriptive sections like this rather than a big info dump.

Except in the instances where they didn’t. Generally Toreth was adept at finding out which cases to pursue and which to close quietly, unsolved. Here there would doubtless be the usual mess of competing factors, and he’d have to poke around on the edges until he found a solid suspect, or until he received a clear cease and desist from higher up.

Obviously the system is not corruption-proof, though.

 

Toreth gets shown through to where the Tefferas are waiting to talk to him. They seem cooperative enough, and state they’re there as Jon’s siblings rather than business associates, though since the meeting is in LiveCorp—complete with armed guards—Toreth is very much reminded of what else they are.

They explain that Jon was interested in SimTech because of the technology having some personal benefit to him, though the spending from LiveCorp wasn’t done without consideration and was approved by the board.

Jon’s sister, Caprice, explains that LiveCorp very much had an interest in the sim for business reasons, since they have interests across all areas of the leisure industry. She mentions that P-Leisure, the LiveCorp representative in the sexual leisure market—is a natural partner for SimTech, which makes obvious sense when you consider what the sim is capable of. (Again, I love that something so human and believable comes into things with the technology. I mean, think about it: porn was probably one of the first non-military-or-government things the internet was getting used for, and it’s one of the main things people use it for nowadays, apparently.

Toreth asks if LiveCorp are pleased with the results from the involvement with SimTech.

 “More than satisfied,” Marc said without hesitation. “They have delivered ahead of schedule and fulfilled their side of the contract admirably.”

Yet moments later, his sister admits that they’re reconsidering several of their association following Jon’s death, including their association with SimTech. As Linton said earlier, they’re a bit twitchy about investing in a product where their brother was found dead.

Toreth quite bluntly asks if  they’d pull out if it was found that the sim had killed Jon to be told that the situation is under review.

“Do you think Jon’s death was sabotage?” Toreth asked.

Now Caprice leaned across, and without making the least attempt to hide it, whispered something to her brother who nodded. There was no point, Toreth knew, in asking what she’d said. “We are taking steps of our own to investigate that,” Caprice said blandly.

Interesting. Of course, one suspects that when the corporates have the sorts of financial resources available to them that they appear to, they can afford to suss this sort of thing out with their own private people.

 “We’re being guided by our security division.” Caprice folded her hands on the table in front of her. “And naturally, they will do all in their power that is both legal and proper.”

Naturally. In fact, LiveCorp would already be devoting far more resources to discovering who might be behind Teffera’s death than Tillotson would ever authorise. No doubt they’d take steps to deal with the culprits, too.

 

And from what we know so far: it won’t be pretty if they find out something that they can deal with.

Toreth closed his eyes briefly, opening them again before the vision of a spiralling corporate vendetta in the middle of his investigation became too disturbingly clear.

The Tefferas have some questions for Toreth, and they’re about Kelly Jarvis’ death. They have their suspicions about the sim, though Toreth isn’t sure if it’s because of their brother, or their company’s investment in SimTech.

He decided to try a direct approach. “Why do you want to know?”

Another whispered exchange, then Caprice said, “Internal security arrangements.”

Of course—he’d missed the third possibility. “If any sabotage is aimed at SimTech rather than LiveCorp, you’ll both be sleeping better than you have for the last few weeks?”

Makes perfect sense. Toreth explains that no, they’re not sure about the sim beyond Kelly’s body being found there, and the Tefferas want to know as soon as possible if anything definitive comes forth.

Toreth had an urge to ask why the hell she thought he ought to go out of his was to help them when they were doing their damndest to shut him out. “I’ll keep you informed, of course. As far as is legal and proper.”

*giggles* You are awesome, Toreth, you snarky bastard.

That drew a sharp glance from Caprice, and Toreth mentally put even money on getting a memo later from Tillotson about upsetting corporates. Fuck him.

Again, more chuckles from me; sounds about right.

Caprice says she wouldn’t blame the sim without evidence, and talks about Jon and his refusal of further treatment, and Marc cuts in, genuinely griefstruck and remembering Jon as someone who went for quality, not quantity both in life and in the corporation. Caprice then asks if Toreth has any questions, and he tells her he’d like to talk to some of their staff, specifically the ones dealing with SimTech.

He realises he isn’t really getting anything from them.

He was wasting his time here, time he could have spent doing something more useful. Perhaps if he’d been here two weeks ago, he might’ve been able to pull something out, but they’d had too long to pick their positions and dig in to defend. To get anything now, he’d need the kind of damage waiver not normally available for people like the Tefferas.

And then we get that very subtle, almost missable little suggestions that perhaps the system isn’t perfect and that, in the words of Orwell, “Some are more equal than others.” (I still think it’s at least more ambitiously “fair” in many ways than today’s governments… though it interests me though even in a world where sexism, racism and homophobia are pretty much non-issues, classism—one of the very much ignored ‘isms’ of our time—still features under Administration rule.)

Anyway, Toreth heads back to I&I, hoping things will look better after the weekend.

Mind Fuck, Manna Francis; Chapter Nine

Toreth heads back to his workplace to let Tillotson know what’s going on.

 

 

The head of section liked to feel he was in touch with ongoing cases, even though (in Toreth’s opinion) the only reason he’d been promoted so far was because he was an appalling investigator.

 

Again, I’m giggling, because this is so bloody human and typical. It isn’t just a government thing, either: I think the experience of working under someone who has somehow ascended to a managerial or supervisory role, when they have no grasp of how to do what their underlings do, is universal. Oh, the stories I could tell.

 

Let’s just say it’s another one of those moments where I grin and want to high-five Manna Francis, because those little details are like the rendering of the frame and it’s stuff like this which is the difference between a sterile video game of a story and a believable world.

 

A little more on Tillotson:

 He certainly wasn’t para material—a widespread and persistent rumour circulated that he’d thrown up and fainted in the only high-level interrogation he’d ever witnessed.

 

Hmm. Interesting: could Tillotson be one of the more ‘human’ I&I workers, or could it be that he’s been more sheltered than a lot of them? This aspect of him is interesting, to me, though it could be potentially disastrous: if he doesn’t know what his staff are doing—and can’t deal with it and doesn’t want to know—when it comes to high-level interrogations, I can only imagine there’s a HUGE space for the paras to get creative with what they’re getting up to if they’re left to do their job and they know their boss won’t be watching them in action.

It’s a fascinating idea, because when you think about it, who would be reasonably able to supervise this sort of work without burning out or becoming otherwise affected by it? (Then again, it’s something I wonder about in regards to a lot of jobs in the real world and I’m sure others do. And again, it’s something I could happily meta on for years.)

Toreth doesn’t get to see his boss immediately: someone else is already in the office, and from the sounds of it, there’s a somewhat heated exchange going on in there. Something serious? Nope: someone who’d forgotten to complete his time sheet in ten minute increments.

More knowing laughter from me. The Tillotsons of the world might be utterly hopeless at actually dealing with people, too incompetent to actually do actual work, but they are amazingly adept when it comes to nitpicking regular schmoes over the piddliest, pettiest things imaginable.

Toreth sits outside his boss’ office and listens in to what he can while occupying himself with his handscreen. (I love the technology: handscreens sound like they’re a level or two up from the smartphones and tablets we’re using nowadays.

Yet again: the tech is believable and not wanked on about: it’s a part of everyday life which is normal and convenient, though not to deus ex machina levels, which is really refreshing. I’m so over miraculous technology solving the unsolvable, and since we already have the wonderousness of the sim, adding more seriously fucking amazing technology would both detract from how amazing the sim is, and test the strength of suspended disbelief probably a little too much.

[Though, honestly, Toreth could have magical powers, Sara could have colour-changing eyes and an overly lengthy name consisting of colours, favoured mythical animals and desirable human qualities, and Warrick could inherit a couple of planets, one which is made of chocolate– and this series would STILL be a lot more believable than plenty of other things I’m reading or have read just on the way the people and their interactions are written.])

Anyway, the dude finally leaves Tillotson’s office.

 For a moment, he thought it was Tillotson himself– the stranger shared his ginger hair and sharp features, although not Tillotson’s infamous and apt resemblance to a weasel. However, he had a purposeful air quite at odds with Tillotson’s habitual strategic defensiveness, and he was in his late twenties rather than his early fifties.

I love description like this. It’s subtle and tells us more about Tillotson yet it’s not all Captain Obvious about it.

Toreth doesn’t recognise him, and wonders if it’s someone from Internal Investigations, and hopes if that’s the case it’s got nothing to do with his case. When he sees Tillotson to tell him what’s happening, Tillotson’s clearly distracted by something, and he’s rather abrupt and preoccupied and seems uninterested in finer details of the case, leading Toreth to ask his admin afterwards who the mystery visitor was. While the admin doesn’t know who he is either, Toreth’s convinced he’s from Internal Investigations.

So I&I aren’t quite all-powerful and answerable to no one, afterall, and interestingly enough, it’s noted that Internal Investigations are “about as welcome at I&I as the arrival of I&I was to citizens outside.” So someone’s watching the watchmen, and they’re powerful– and incorruptible.

Again, it’s an interesting thing to consider, since the law allows I&I to behave in a questionable manner against suspected wrong-doers (can we say “High level interrogations,” ladies and gentlemen? Even though we don’t have huge amounts of detail at the moment, later on we get that detail, and Tillotson’s rumoured throwing up becomes believable), one can only wonder what sort of punishments are faced by those working in the system (who should know better, right?) who do the wrong thing.

Toreth goes through the list of threats from Linton, noting that possibly “SimTech had more potential enemies than a corporation of its size had any right to possess.” He realises that checking all these threats out is going to be *huge*, especially when taking into account the stuff that he doesn’t know *yet*. He organises for some assistance from the Corporate Fraud department, and we get to meet some more of the workers in the Administration.

Liz Carey is a nifty character; she doesn’t feature a lot and she’s not some sort of novelty for comic relief, but she’s memorable and I like her. She comes across as believable though because there’s no huge infodump on her she’s still intriguing, and she’s a perfect example of how minor characters don’t have to be two-dimensional props. In a world where sadly many main characters can look like two-dimensional props, this makes me happy.

(I also like what it says about the Administration: that there are all kinds of people who work there. It makes me think of a friend of mine who used to work in a state government facility and who had the most awesome stories and descriptions of thoroughly fascinating and hilariously eccentric people with whom she worked. I used to tell her to take notes because they would translate wonderfully to a novel.)

Carey’s appearance is believable, too: she’s described as “tall, heavily built, and with an uncontrolled tangle of unnaturally vivid red hair.” (Another reason I’d love to see this televised: I would LOVE to see the actress who’d wind up playing Liz!) She’s also pointedly described as not beautiful, though she has a sexy voice which Toreth can appreciate, something I’m yet to have seen in anything else I’ve written: all too often “voice,” when considered, is just another “sexy” attribute thrown into the mix of a character the protagonist is wanting to sex up. Liz isn’t at all once of these characters, but she does have a sexy voice.

She’s arrived with her assistant, the amusingly, and literally– pale-in-comparison Phil Verstraeten who is rather nervy.

“Just qualified,” Carey continued. “I’m whipping him into shape.”

Toreth raised an eyebrow. “Literally?”

Carey laughed. “They changed the rules since we were new graduates– can’t even use shock sticks on ’em now. […]”

Oh, I like Liz, and the more I got glances of Toreth’s sense of humour, the more I liked him. At least some of that was due in part to the fact that I find myself saying (or thinking) similar things in comparable situations. There’s a scene later on in the series where he makes an offhand quip about something quite awful without realising it which had me cringing in a “God, I’ve done that before” kind of way.

Anyway, Liz is just cool. She’s the type of person you’d want to have a drink and a laugh with at the end of the week. And she’s genuinely helpful. Again, cheers for doing awesome female characters and not expecting a gold sticker star for it, Manna.

 

Liz and Phil hear what’s going on with SimTech and their involvement with LiveCorp, though like Toreth, they can’t come up with anything solid. Thankfully, though, they have budget to play with to get things sorted out. They head off, and Toreth starts reading up on Teffera’s history.

Teffera, we learn, sustained the spinal injuries discussed earlier due to a skiing accident, and despite numerous attempts at setting things right via surgery for six years, he declined further medical interference and decided to make the most of what he was left with.

 Despite his underlying conviction that most corporates deserved whatever they got, Toreth found it uncomfortable reading. After his taster in the sim, it was too easy to imagine himself in the same position, his body taken out of control. The helplessness he’d felt in the sim kept returning as he read. Ironic that, to Teffera, the sim must have been a godsend.

Yet another way of considering things which totally hadn’t occurred to me and which is fascinating to think about for awhile. I’ll be perfectly blunt and revealing about something else, too: issues of power and control in writing fascinate me if they’re done well. Years ago, another friend and I were discussing themes in our writing or “stuff that we always did,” and I went, “Hang on, I don’t actually have any, I just write about a wide range of really random things.” And her response was, “No you don’t. Whatever you’re writing about– [and my list of random examples included stuff I was working on when I was a kid]– there’s always a key element of power and control somewhere.” And she was right, but it was something I never actually noticed until it was pointed out to me like that. (For anyone reading this who’s an astrology buff, I guess you could say I’m kind of typical of someone who has Moon in Scorpio when it comes to that whole interest in Stuff That Is Generally Regarded As Taboo and I would argue since most people don’t like talking about it or analysing it too heavily, that would include issues surrounding power.) When you write about something, I guess, you can pick up where it’s done well and in a manner that makes it compelling to read about. Manna Francis is awesome at writing about power so subtly that it’s just there—like air—in everything, but it only very occasionally emerges into the narrative. And fuck, I love that.

 

Anyway, it seems that the notes Justice have compiled suggest that Teffera’s death had little to do with the sim and that it’s been of little interest to them. His death was brought down to “respiratory failure” rather than anything detectably unnatural. But his body left no clues to his cause of death and because his death was processed quickly, any evidence remaining was lost. And the investigation was started days afterwards rather than immediately, as things had happened with Jarvis’ death, where a Marian Tanit– the previously-mentioned workplace psychologist– had informed Justice of her death. Toreth sends off a note for Barret-Connor to talk to her in the course of his interviews.

Being the workaholic he is, Toreth leaves late (though he’s been decent enough to let Sara go home earlier; one theme that keeps popping up in the series is that Toreth is a damn good boss and manager) though is satisfied with his accomplishments for the day. I think this is the point where we see that much of his job involves being alone and sifting through evidence and reading files and finding names, and, well, piecing together stuff– rather than the tough-guy heavy-handed intimidation and interrogation stuff.

(I’ll be perfectly honest, too: in my last entry about Mind Fuck, I mentioned how I’d asked on FaceBook what people’s dream fictional jobs would be, didn’t I? Mine is, unsurprisingly, Toreth’s role. Think about it: there are all the perks of a government position [plus extra, unofficial ones], but you get to have your own office and assistant, you’re being paid to poke around in other people’s secrets and essentially solve problems with a lot of people-reading and figuring out stuff, and you’re frequently being left alone to deal with making sense of masses of paperwork, and delegating a lot of the interacting with other people stuff to your staff. The downside? Pretty much everyone you don’t work with thinks you’re a monster.)

Toreth’s considering what needs doing and what paperwork will be coming in later (and again, this is written in a fashion that sounds perfectly believable) and then

Since Toreth was off-duty, he also considered Warrick. After the night before, he’d expected a different reaction from Warrick when he walked into his office. Toreth’s extensive experience predicted defensiveness or embarrassment. He’d found neither– just calm intelligence, a touch of arrogance, and genuine distress at the news of the girl’s death.

So already, it’s well established that Warrick isn’t your standard lump of person as a corporate manager; he behaves in an unexpected fashion. That alone has been enough to throw Toreth off slightly, and it establishes him as something *different* to what Toreth is used to, one assumes, both professionally and personally.

That was telling in itself. Toreth had spoken to plenty of corporate types whose only interest in their employees was in terms of the bottom line.

Even though it’s only a small corporation (but, yanno, sometimes they’re so skint and desperate to make it that they’re the companies who exploit their staff worse than the larger companies, I’ve found…), it’s clear that Warrick’s actually a decent person and again, not the standard model.

He’s also confident: Jarvis’ death and the investigation has disrupted rather than shaken anything, from the looks of things. Toreth briefly wonders if he’s confident enough to think he could get away with murder and decides that he’s not since he’s got plenty to lose from them, but nonetheless, he’s important to the case because he’s the gatekeeper to cooperation from SimTech and information on the sim itself.

 

Postscript: I’d like to add that this was an extremely short chapter, folks. I saw the wordcount at the end and thought, “Damn, I think I clocked into five-figures with the Shades R&R last time, but honestly, this was four pages. And the Shades chapters are getting longer the further you get into the book.