Mind Fuck, Manna Francis; Chapter Eight

One thing I really love about the Warrick-and-Toreth situation is that aside from Toreth’s initial desire to hook up with the dude, there is nothing that feels artificially constructed about their meetings. There is no need for a crazy excuse or for the reader to scratch their head and go, “Unnnnh? Coincidence? I think NOT.”

And the investigation and the situation at SimTech is just as rich and detailled and interesting as the very intense interaction between the two protagonists; you don’t get a sense of “downtime” in Mind Fuck, and I love that.

(I’ll admit something, too: I actually started reading this chapter smack-bang in the middle of a sex scene in the other thing that I’m reading because I got bored  and my review was getting too wordy and the other reading options were None of Us Were Like This Before or to start a third series I’m considering doing readthroughs of. So much for my resolve, hey?

 

One of the challenges of doing a readthrough on this one in particular book is there is heavy plotty stuff which bears mentioning for the rest of the entry to make sense, and I neither want to spell out everything or leave stuff out… or grab slabs of text and talk around them. I think with shorter pieces in the series and the ones heavy on character explanation, discussion and opinions and that “debriefing” sort of thing happen more easily and with less consideration of How do I do this? And I’m not having moments of “Holy god what the fuck did I just read?” in this series, either, so there’s nothing to really nitpick about or make snide comments on. (And I’m not just saying that because I am aware that Ms. Francis has been reading my entries over here. Hell, if E. L. James turned up and wanted to talk to me, my opinion wouldn’t actually change of the material itself. [Though I would probably tell her to bitchslap her editor. Unless something’s vanity published, it’s not just one person’s fault when it features a lot of fail.])

 

It’s hard to critique because it is that fucking amazing. And it’s a great place to start, too, because so much about the SimTech case sets up the world around Toreth and Warrick and the reader gets to warm to the characters in their own time. It’s not like the characters are pushed onto us with the idea that we’re going to love them as much as the writer does. One thing I LOATHE as a reader is being expected to like or be sympathetic to a character as though it’s a given. Conversely, being presented with an absolute monster whom I’m meant to despise will often make me curious or interested enough to start wondering about their motivations. And if I hate the protagonist enough, especially if the writer wants me to adore them for no good reason, I’ll start actively rooting for the bad guy.

Anyway, in Mind Fuck, I don’t wind up doing that, and I suspect that my views of some of the characters are probably quite different from the way their creator sees them and I like that that is okay, if that makes sense. It’s a credit to both the writer and the quality of the work.

 

Anyway, rambles aside, Toreth gets to see Warrick in a truly believable, but not-exactly-expected fashion. (Let’s face it: you don’t expect a death in your workplace. Unless you work somewhere in mining or in a dangerous factory or a majorly understaffed prison with lax security and supremely violent inmates or something.) And for the first time, Warrick gets to see him in his professional capacity. And given the situation, that’s caused another subtle shift in the power issues.

And that’s something else I love about the series: the power issues between these two don’t really happen on an axis– it’s more like a very subtle, multi-dimensional thing taking a metric fucktonne of stuff into account. It’s realistic and it’s awesome. And it shifts, depending on the environment, other people being around (and who they are), previous behaviours from the two of them, and pretty much every other factored in variable.

 

Warrick, we learn, has been sent to his office by Justice when the investigation started, and has been waiting in there, working on something before getting questioned.

He has no idea that Toreth is about to make an appearance, and Toreth, being Toreth, relishes the idea of surprising him.

 Warrick sat at his desk, eyes fixed on a large screen. Two more screens kept it company on the wide desk. He didn’t look up at the intrusion. “I said I didn’t want to be disturbed until those idiots have finished–”

Toreth closed the door. “Good morning, Dr. Warrick.”

Best entrance ever, and one of those complete “Fuck this would translate beautifully to the screen” moments, too.

Warrick’s head snapped up, his eyes narrowing. Then he took in the uniform and made the connection.His expression smoothed into wary politeness. “Ah. An official visit. Part of the general disruption to the Centre?”

“Yes.”

“I thought I saw Justice Department uniforms in the building,” Warrick said.

“You did. Now we’re taking over the investigation.”

 

It’s interesting how the I&I uniform manages to say so much just by being there. While we never get a detailled description of the I&I uniforms, beyond knowing they’re black, we understand the influence they hold over the general public in a number of instances throughout the series. Justice’s uniforms are blue and police-like (and from my understanding of cops in the UK, they’re heavily concerned with investigation and they’re a community-friendly organisation. [Then again, this might be warped and inaccurate and overly inspired by my years of watching The Bill.] I do know that they don’t carry firearms around, too, though, so I don’t think they’d be as intimidating as cops in Australia or the US.)

You do not, I understand, fuck with I&I officers. Everything about their reputation and public image is well-designed to bring about cooperation. Or compliance, at least. And it’s such a little thing, but uniforms, in the real world, do have that influence. (Compare the effects of the Stanford Prison Experiment when the “guards” wore uniforms and then the later model of that situation where the uniforms were gone. I am aware that public perception of me has changed since my workplace instated uniforms.)

 

Toreth explains to a genuinely clueless– and genuinely bothered– Warrick what’s happened, and that he isn’t a suspect because he’s got an airtight alibi: him.

I love it. It could be such a clichéd thing (and I’ve seen it used a lot in Phoenix Wright fic in particular) that someone’s got an alibi because they were playing hide the sausage with them—but this just feels like what would happen if that actually happened in real life. Suspension of disbelief, big time.

Even so, Toreth is trying not to think about that (despite noticing that Warrick is sporting some bruises), because he’s being professional at the moment. (I love his dedication to his work. Seriously: so so so much. It feels authentic rather than like his workaholism is an excuse for other things or just a plot device.)

He explains that the deceased was Kelly Jarvis, which causes Warrick to react with genuine shock: he liked Kelly, we presume, and he knew her. (And it is really weird talking to someone one day and then finding out that they’re dead a little while later.)

Warrick elaborates; he knew her in the capacity that she was a student who would consult him about work for the Sim, and he offered her a lift home given that it wasn’t early and the student living areas in the city aren’t particularly safe. Interestingly enough, he adds that it was just a lift that he offered, and that she refused it because she wanted to work on something—which Warrick can’t remember—and that no one would have  overheard them… except, perhaps, the resident workplace psychologist whom Warrick had just seen prior.

Toreth then inadvertently opens a can of worms:

“I have to ask a standard question—nothing personal. Did you have any relationship with the victim, other than a professional one?”

“Meaning?”

He abandoned subtlety. “Have you ever had sex with her?”

Warrick frowned slightly—annoyance was Toreth’s first guess, but then he realised it was a genuine effort to remember. “Not that I recall,” Warrick said at length, “but I’d have to check the logs to be sure. If you mean outside the sim, the answer is definitely no.”

Oh, lordy. A genuine other issue surrounding the sim which I’d never considered until reading this. On the upside, you wouldn’t have to worry about worrying about catching things from anonymous sexual encounters in the sim, though.

I can’t even try to make the face I assume Toreth would be trying not to make by now.

 “So what are the logs?”

“We test our hardware and software on as many volunteers are we can. Most of them are inhouse, because of confidentiality issues. So it’s possible that, during some test or piece of research, I might’ve had sex—in the sim—with Kelly. I don’t think so, but I can’t guarantee what I would remember. However, everything is recorded, so it would be in the session logs.”

I love the idea of the sim’s software needing testing. Of course it’s an obvious consideration, but one that seems ignored in a lot of sci-fi writing I’ve seen where the technology always seems to be both flawless and not developing.

I can imagine, too, some of the potential weirdnesses that would need ironing out in the sim. Ever have weird glitches in video games? I heard about some doozies in the first edition of The Sims before patches started getting released: apparently sometimes you could have disturbingly ugly sim babies created, for example. And hey, I’ve found a few even in Mass Effect 2 which I have been playing like an obsessive last week, so bugs and glitches are hardly a “gone with the times” thing. And, hey, Windows 8. Shit still needs testing.

Imagine bugs, though, in the sim—simulated reality which is close enough to the real thing—while having sex. I can completely understand a need for beta testing and lots of it. You wouldn’t want someone paying for something for erotic kicks and then needing to spend the rest of their life in therapy due to an unnoticed bug that turned out to bring forth High Octane Nightmare Fuel for the user. Someone like me might find that hilarious. The company getting sued for damages and the person who never wants to have sex again might not find it as funny.

“You get to fuck enough twenty-two-year-old students that you can’t remember?” Toreth’s professional control deserted him. “Jesus fucking Christ. Nice work if you can get it.”

This time Warrick didn’t smile. “It’s not a free-for-all orgy. We’re sensitive to the emotional dangers involved and the possibility of exploitation.

And this, ladies and gentlemen, is why this series rocks so much harder than certain other ones. Even in fiction, with technology we don’t even have available to us, there are concerns about how it could affect the people involved with it. There is a recognition that people can be harmed psychologically. There are measures put in place to make things as responsible and above-board as possible. (It’s realistic, too.)

Ahem. Sorry for that interruption.

All activities are covered by strict protocols and closely supervised. It’s just a job, you might say.”
He tilted his head, eyes narrowing, making Toreth feel like a specimen under examination. “Tell me, Para-investigator, do you take pleasure in inflicting pain during interrogations?”

Slam. Dunk. Score.

“I—“ Toreth blinked. “Not in the way you mean, no. I like to do my work well, whatever it is.”

 

And you know what? I actually believe him. Given other aspects of Toreth’s commitment to his work, and his perfectionist and workaholic leanings which get noted every so often, I think he’s vastly different to usual bad guy types who positively savour hurting other people. For Toreth, in what we’ve seen so far, it’s not personal. And even when he did want to hurt someone for personal reasons, he stopped himself, recognised it as fantasy, and left it there.

And in a way, that actually makes Toreth come across to me, at least, as someone trustworthy in his role. For the most part, he’s able to keep himself very well controlled, and he’s able to remain objective when it comes to the people he’s dealing with. His detachment actually is a plus in what he does, from my angle.

And I find that kind of fascinating and could meta forever about it. But I won’t, but it’s just something else I really like about both the character himself and the way he’s written. He could have all too easily been a cackling guy in a black uniform gleefully hurting his subjects, who kicks puppies in his spare time, but he’s not.

“Mm.” Warrick flexed his right shoulder, rubbing his wrist on the same arm, the implication clear: Last night you hurt me and enjoyed it.

And here’s another part where I want to meta forever about this because there are way too many fascinating angles: there’s Toreth the professional, there’s Toreth out of uniform just doing his thing (where he does enjoy being in control and inflicting pain in some circumstances) and then there’s Warrick’s reaction to all of this—and his involvement therein. None of this is two-dimensional and simple, and I love that Toreth’s profession—and Warrick’s thoughts about it—is never completely “dealt with” and is a recurring theme throughout the series.

When the hell did Warrick start running the interview? Toreth thought with a touch of irritation. Still, better than hiding behind corporate lawyers. He was all in favour of interviewees who were willing to talk enough rope to hang themselves. Toreth nodded. “Point taken.”

Two things: a) now THIS is what someone hijacking their interview looks like, and b) well handled, Toreth.

Warrick then apologies for sounding a bit defensive and suggests that Toreth discuss the psychological stuff with the workplace psych he’d mentioned before.

Attack and retreat—the same game as last night. Toreth decided to change the subject.

He asks about the security SimTech uses, which is, for him, frustratingly less than what he’s used to. Warrick’s view on security is that it’s often problematic itself and potentially more dangerous than perceived threats: records and identification of staff in situations can be sold, it can make identifying targets for blackmail or bribery easy. I love Warrick’s attitude: he’s smart enough to realise that corporate sabotage is a more detailed problem than a lot of companies and that at the end of the day, people are the biggest weakness. It’s intelligent, and it fits in perfectly in what we know of the guy as a social engineer. And being aware of what he can do to get information makes him aware of what others are going to try and do to his company. (Kevin Mitnick, by the way, is now a security consultant.)

Unfortunately, though, a lack of the standard surveillance means no record of Kelly Jarvis dying, and only vague evidence of other factors which might be important.

Then the elephant in the room that no one’s brought up gets mentioned.

“You think the sim killed her?” Warrick asked.
“It’s a possibility.”
“No, it isn’t.”

Warrick is dead certain about this, and very defensive. (I’ll admit, I was wondering, too. But it looks so obvious, doesn’t it?)

Toreth then points out that he’s not just there because of Kelly Jarvis, but that he’s aware of Jon Teffera’s death. Teffera was found dead in a similar situation, remember—on the sim couch. But Warrick is adamant that the sim didn’t kill him, either. But it’s his word against Toreth needing to investigate, and while Warrick says he’s wasting his time in doing so, he agrees to help Toreth what whatever he needs for the investigation.

Toreth then asks what Warrick was up to when Teffera died, and it turns out that he was having dinner with the other two SimTech directors.

Teffera had died at nine thirty, making a nice, tight alibi for all of the SimTech directors. It made him automatically suspicious, although senior corporates rarely did their own dirty work. Still, people planning a killing might prefer to have it occur when they themselves were definitely elsewhere.

It turns out the directors doing dinner thing is a regular happening and that the three of them: Asher Linton, Lew Marcus, and Warrick—are friends anyway in spite of their shared business. And nothing happened that particular night that was out of the ordinary, though now that there have been two deaths which have happened involving sim users, Warrick’s now concerned about people not wanting to invest in the technology.

“If the sim turns out to be responsible for—“
“The sim didn’t kill them.” The confidence in his voice was absolute.
“Then what did?”
“You’re the para-investigator—you find out.” Warrick smiled, perhaps an attempt to take the sharpness from his words. “And if you do, please let me know.”

 

Following on from this, Toreth decides to pay director number two—aka Lew Marcus—a visit. Marcus is in a bad mood and isn’t sure what’s going on, of course. I’ll admit, he’s just one of those people I think would piss me off if I knew him in real life, and something rubbed me the wrong way about him early on. He’s a bit sharp with Toreth, who isn’t exactly compassionate and accommodating towards him, either, though he cooperates with Toreth’s questioning.

It transpires that he was the one who found Kelly Jarvis’ body during morning checks of the sim equipment, though he thought nothing of it because he assumed she was still alive when he saw her hooked up to it. When she was found by a tech who realised she was dead, Marcus was the one to secure the room, get everyone to leave and call the directors. (Someone else called Justice.)

Toreth questions him, too, and the answers he gets don’t offer much assistance: there was nothing suspicious about his movement in SimTech either the night Kelly died or the morning afterwards, and he had no relationship with Kelly, in or out of the sim.

Toreth then asks

“How about the trials?”
The smile did nothing to soften his face. “I’m a married man, Para-investogator. I can assure you my wife would have something to say about that.”

Just a little side note I wanted to highlight: that also piqued my interest given the way Warrick looks at his involvement inside the sim. Again, I like that everyone perceives things differently.

Toreth asks about the evening Teffera died and Marcus suddenly realises that that’s part of what this is all about. But still, nothing suspicious there, either.

And Marcus, like Warrick, is dead certain that the sim didn’t kill Kelly. Maybe he’s not as passionate about it and as defensive, but he is still pretty damned certain that there is absolutely no way the thing killed her—or Teffera, even though he realises that the problem of people being found dead in it is dead serious. Corporate sabotage gets brought up, and Marcus believes that that’s more likely.

We learn a bit more about Teffera’s sim machine: Teffera, it turns out, had serious spinal injuries and was paralysed.

Up until that mention, I’d never even considered the sim in that capacity, and thinking about it… doesn’t this just make the idea of the thing that much more amazing? Imagine the use it could have for people with disabilities and access and communication issues, too… it’s actually kind of mindblowing. And then, when you realise that we haven’t quite gotten there, technology-wise, it’s kind of depressing. I remember years and years ago and my sister and I were talking about Hogwarts and the Harry Potterverse, and my sister said, “Do you ever think about how there isn’t a Hogwarts enough and realise that it’s actually kind of depressing?” And I thought about that and realised that she was right. And the other day I asked people on my FaceBook if they’d ever fallen in love with a fictional career and the result was that yes, there were a few of us who had, and then a few of us realised that we never would be doing it, and that was actually quite depressing. (I loved my friend’s answer that Indiana Jones made her think that archaeologists went around fighting Nazis and that she wanted to do that when she was a kid.)

But yeah, think about it. The fact that the sim doesn’t exist is kind of depressing.

“[…] The adaptations were expensive and time-consuming. Interesting, though—technically very challenging. Direct feeds into the brain mimicking lost nerve inputs, complete restructuring of the output analysis system and contact feedback.” For the first time in the interview, Marcus became animated. “Ah, yes. It’s a beautiful piece of equipment, if I do say so myself, although I don’t know what we’ll do with it when Justice finally returns it. A pity there aren’t enough people in his condition with his kind of money to justify devoting more energy into it.”

Oh, ouch. I know that wasn’t meant to be completely fucking brutal, Marcus, but, well, cringe. You have to love the devoid-of-human-interest, very scientific fascination that Marcus has: he’s a hardware specialist, the specifications and the work of the machine is what interests him. It’s pretty much just as heartless as Toreth asking if the sim could induce feelings of pain and be useful in his line of work: the sort of thing someone said by someone a bit socially inept who is at least partially a product of their career. (And engineers and scientists seem notorious for this in fiction… though I’ve known a few engineering types who are like that in real life so I believe the stereotype might just have some grounding in reality.)

Marcus doesn’t know why Kelly would be targeted for corporate sabotage, and admits that he’s not that familiar with her work since he’s the hardware and biological interfacing guy. He suggests talking to the other two directors about that side of things.

“So you trust your fellow directors to have your best interests at heart?”
The answer came without hesitation. “Yes, I do. They are two of the most trustworthy people I have met in my life.” Judging by the emphasis he put on it, two of the very few trustworthy people. “SimTech means a lot to me,” Marcus continued. “I’m not going to pretend I have the same sort of—“ He frowned, clearly looking for the right words. “I don’t believe in it the way Warrick does, but it’s as much my corporation as his or Linton’s. And it’s going to make me a rich man. I’ve always wanted to be rich.”

I love the way he mentions Warrick’s love for the thing, and that it’s so obvious that Warrick is so enamoured with it. It’s his baby. I also love Marcus’ thoroughly unlikeable personality. He could be a completely neutral witness, but he’s not. I like that he irks me. (I actually get a bit of a buzz when someone tells me that I’ve written someone who’s personality grates at them or that they truly loathe one of my characters because he’s so fucking unlikeable.)

Over some more questions, Marcus talks about his history with SimTech: he and Warrick previously worked together at the Human Sciences Research Centre… on a project funded by the Department of Security, through the Neuroscience Section.

So they were working for the government. It turns out that the project was scrapped after inter-department conflicts and the reorganisation of the Department of Security (something I grinned at: again, like the arduous paperwork and the missing plants and Chevril, so typical in government organisations) but Warrick realised the potential in what they’d been doing, and needed Marcus’ technical expertise, and so, they bought their work from the Administration, and, so, SimTech.

There’s a fair bit to say to all of this, though the moment the secrecy of the research involved in the sim and the fact that it was government stuff to begin with adds another layer of intrigue and interest to it. You can see clearly why people would be wanting to sabotage SimTech with that knowledge. It also gives some insight into Warrick: his intelligence isn’t limited to technical stuff and the sim; he’s a shrewd businessman as well.

 

Toreth then pops over to meet the third member of the SimTech directors, Asher Linton.

I like Asher, too. She comes across as bright, self-assured, and confident in that way that means she’s at ease with a lot of people without being so laid back you think she’s going to fall over, or irritatingly perfect. She’s not overly freaked out by Toreth’s arrival and leaves the door open for him and is pleasant and cooperative with Toreth.

“Keir asked me to cooperate fully, in any case, without waiting for the warrants.”
He must have looked surprised at her use of the familiar name, because she offered him a seat and said, “I’ve been a friend of Keir Warrick’s for a long time—since we were children. I met his sister Dillian at school; that’s how I know him. Coffee?”

Interesting. But hey: she just seems like a really pleasant and easy-to-interact with person.

Toreth notes what she’s wearing—an expensive suit– or rather, the significance of it, and wonders if she is able to dress like that because she was wealthy prior to, or because of SimTech. Again, another thumbs-up from me; I like it when details are part of a bigger picture and have a reason for being noted. Francis writes like this a LOT, but it’s especially evident in this book where there’s a lot of stuff going on in one story. It’s succinct and clever and immersive.

Anyway, they talk for a bit about Kelly’s death, which Asher doesn’t know a great deal about. Because she’s dealing with the financial end of things, the concern of corporate sabotage and where they’ll get their funding from now that this has happened occurs to her. Teffera’s death wasn’t exactly an endorsement of the sim, though because of his circumstances, financers didn’t walk away, but as Asher says, they became nervous.

“What happens if the funding fails?”

“SimTech dies,” she said simply.

If the sim hadn’t killed Teffera and Jarvis, then here was as clear an impetus for corporate sabotage as he could wish for. “What happens to the rights to the sim technology?”

She frowned. “I’d have to check terms, but as far as I remember, they would revert to Administration ownership.”

And things just get a whole lot messier. Toreth considers that if the rights went to a sponsor, the whole mess of corporate sabotage gets a lot clearer and more obvious, though a corporate with “the right friends” could easily acquire them then. He asks Asher who she’d suspect if it was corporate sabotage.

Asher notes that when SimTech started up, there were a number of disappointed parties who wanted to fund it, having realised the potential for the technology. Toreth does warn her to be suspicious if anyone offers to assist them with funding issues especially if they want more control of things, to which Asher comes out with:

“Should I shop our potential saviour to I&I?”

Hehe. I wonder if she was like me and wondering what would happen if it was I&I offering to bail them out and take control of things?

Asher didn’t know Kelly as she mainly handles the financial stuff, though we do find out what the deal is with students as opposed to employees of the company. One thing that does come up in the books is the education question, and I like how the Administration handles it (and I think it’s a lot kinder than what most countries do!). Basically the students working for SimTech remain so and are pursuing university degrees: when they get their degrees, they often join the company, but until then they’re not fully-fledged employees. There aren’t a lot of differences in their allowances, though: while students are restricted from accessing certain areas, so are regular employees.

Toreth asks Asher to tell him about the company, from her angle: SimTech was founded seven years ago, and because of her corporate background and ability, Warrick wanted her on board.

“Warrick issued the invitation on merit, I assure you, Para-investigator. SimTech is always his highest priority.”

A paragon of corporate virtue, in fact—something that Toreth was beginning to find annoying.

Heh. I remember someone describing Warrick as “Bill Gates,” and thought “Nah, Bill Gates was meaner in the earlier years.” I love Warrick’s attitude and devotion to the business. Warrick might be a smartarse at times, he mightn’t be entirely honest and he might be tricksey, but he’s actually a good bloke. Or… he treats people well and he’s a good employer who balances shrewd business sense with decency, at least.

Asher talks about SimTech a bit more and offers some more insight: sim units will be commercially available in about three years, though the pricing will be prohibitive for most people—though she believes there will still be an industry in it.

Toreth can see them being more successful than that. Remember IBM’s thing about eight computers, hey?

 

Ownership of the company is discussed: between them, the three directors own about eighty percent of SimTech, then the university they’re operating out of owns a bit more, and friends and family are the other investors. They have agreements with other companies who don’t seem to have any problems with anything.

Curiously, it’s not until the end of the meeting where we hear Asher Linton’s view on the sim being a potential killer.

“Do you think it’s possible that the sim killed the girl or Jon Teffera?”

After a moment’s consideration, she said “What does Warrick think?”

Warrick, not Marcus. “I asked for your opinion.”

“I don’t have one. The technology isn’t my specialty. But I’d happily stake my reputation on whatever Warrick says. I have before, many times.”

 

Waiting outside the office is one of Toreth’s junior team members who’s found someone who saw Kelly Jarvis alive the previous night. Jasleen Mistry explains that the witness is a software engineer who is completely freaked out by what’s happened, though probably up to an interview.

Yang, the programmer, is freaked out, and keeps repeating that she was fine in a way that’s entirely believable and devoid of suspicion. Through the interview, he talks about what happens, and we get some more understanding of the workings of SimTech. He’d seen Kelly because they were both volunteers working on a trial in the sim, and Yang explains he’s on the “full list.”

“What’s the full list?” Toreth asked patiently.
“Oh. There are—“ He stopped. “I’m sorry. I’m not usually… it’s shaken me up, that’s all. It’s—poor Kelly. She was fine when I left. Absolutely fine. I can’t believe—“
“Take your time. Tell me about the lists.” With any luck, talking about work would calm the man down a little.

I love the dialogue here. You genuinely feel bad for Yang; sometimes people experiencing trauma or loss secondhand get more fucked up than actual witnesses, and the way Yang speaks is completely believable. Furthermore, Toreth’s handling of the situation? Absolutely spot on and just clever and accurate. And of course, this comes down to the writing. People actually react like this. Smart people dealing with them know how to handle them. And smart writers know how to get people to handle them. It’s such a little detail, but beautifully executed.

Anyway, Yang explains the lists:

“[…] It means I’ll do any kind of trial. There are different lists, depending on what kind of trials people want to take part in. Whether you’re prepared to participate in the sex-based research, basically. And what kinds of activities are acceptable if you are.”

EEE! I love that they even take this into account. And it’s another little detail included which feels real and wonderful.

Anyway, when Toreth notices that Yang’s married, he asks about that aspect, but Yang points out that he wants to help the company and his wife wants him to do well in his job.

Toreth nodded, knowing very well how that sort of thing worked. Employees always knew what was expected, what their superiors wanted to hear. All the sensitivity in the world to the possibility of exploitation couldn’t stop those kinds of insidious pressures.

So Simtech isn’t perfect after all. And… yeah. I think everyone’s worked in places or been part of voluntary activities where there is some sort of obligation beyond what is formally and explicitly expected.

Toreth asks a bit more about the selection and then asks about the situation with Kelly and the experiment. Yang explains that he was needed there for two hours, and Toreth wonders if the sessions are at all recorded in a way that’s meaningful from the “outside” of the sim.

Yang nodded. “Everything’s recorded, at least, short term. It can be, er, put back together, to make a kind of recording, as if there were a camera in the sim room itself. The hypothetical observer viewpoint, it’s called.”

Perfectly practical when you’re doing experiments and need to collect data and might need to look at things or show them to other people afterwards, right? But also… you can see why the adult entertainment industry wants in on the sim, can’t you? You could legally do stuff in the sim that would get your arse thrown in jail and incur the wrath of the Good Taste Police.

Anyway, Yang explains that there is an enormous amount of data that generally gets dealt with in the few days after its production, and they get back to talking about Kelly. Yang explains that Kelly’s friend, Tara Scrivin, contacted her while she was in the sim, over the link, though there seems to be little of significance there and that any other recordings of people coming or going would be accessed in security records since the room was in a secure space.

After the experiment, it seems that Kelly might have stayed in the sim, using her personal time: one of the perks of being a volunteer guineapig means that you get “personal time” in the sim. Assuming there’s a space available for you—it’s understandably in high demand.

Toreth asks if Kelly used drugs, to which Yang is a bit shocked: that’s against the rules and bannination from the sim will happen if you’re doing that. Furthermore, the workplace is one where people will report those sorts of infractions

Toreth shook his head slightly. What a place to work—fucking co-workers on billable time but getting bent out of shape over recreational pharmaceuticals.

I giggled at that. Clearly he’s more of the Lew Marcus’s wife view about the “full list” trials than the Jin Li Yang opinion. I can also understand why you wouldn’t want your guineapigs—or anyone using it on personal time—off their faces in the sim. I can imagine data getting warped in an experimental environment, and I can imagine the effects of certain drugs causing results to the users which might wind up damaging the sim hardware!

Anyway, Toreth believes Yang to be innocent, and leaves Mistry to finish dealing with him, returning to I&I to deal with the paperwork Belqola has acquired from Justice.

Mind Fuck, Manna Francis; Chapter Seven

Toreth’s back at work after his SimTech-related shenanigans, only to be advised by Sara that his boss wants a word with him and that he doesn’t sound happy because he took a day off without holiday leave scheduled.

 

We haven’t heard much about Tillotson yet (other than the rumours that Toreth is sleeping with him in order to get the good cases: a rumour which is all the more ridiculous when you meet Tillotson in the series) but he’s another one of those believable, easily-recognisable public servant characters, like Chevril. Unlike Chevril, though, he’s presumably a lot more ambitious, a lot more by-the-books, and a hell of a lot less fun. The fact that a guy like Tillotson is a manager isn’t just convincing, it’s bloody typical. Personal bias has tainted my view of Tillotson: I can’t stand him because I recognise him in a lot of ineffective, micro-managing, mired-in-irrelevant-details, pompous, managerial types I’ve encountered. He’s so believable and typical and blank that I wonder if I have a normal reaction to him or an attitude problem. Maybe it’s a bit of both.

 

Promising to tell Sara about Warrick later on, Toreth goes in to see Tillotson after requesting a coffee from his admin. Sara frequently uses coffee as a way of smoothing over edges, and in some cases, Toreth uses asking Sara to make him a coffee as distraction. (I love their dynamic.)

 

If Toreth’s apprehensive about a meeting with Tillotson, it’s understandable. At I&I, the only people scarier than the lower-level workers are presumably the ones who have worked up from that position and who are more skilled and adept at dealing with people than them. I mean, who else wants a senior level interrogator for a boss when it comes to those awkward getting-called-into-the-office moments? And Toreth, after his running up costs at the restaurant and the hotel for not-really-professional means, knows exactly what he’s dealing with.

When Tillotson decided to elicit confessions of illegitimate time off or expense account fiddling, he tended to go in for heavy-handed verbal traps.

Fun. Not.

Surprisingly, though, and thankfully, for Toreth, he’s not hear about that, he’s asking about the Sim seminar and how that went– and advising Toreth that he has a new case for him when Toreth gives him, well, some of the truth. (And omitting the rest.)

 

Phew, right? Except for the bit about how the new case is involving SimTech because someone died there. Toreth doesn’t declare any personal involvement with the players in the case because he’s curious (and presumably doesn’t want to get dropped for conflict-of-interest issues) and because he doesn’t feel his interactions with Warrick constitute anything serious enough to warrant disclosure.

 

The dead woman was Kelly Jarvis, a grad student with a seemingly unspectacular spotless record. Not the sort of thing which I&I usually deal with, though Toreth is then advised of the other part of the case: Jon Teffera, a corporate big name has also died and while the media reports have said it was from natural causes, they left out the bit abuot how he was found dead on a sim couch.

 

“[…] I didn’t think they were for sale yet.”

“They aren’t, except to corporate sponsors and their close, influential friends.”

 

Hearing about the case– and the issues surrounding it– gives us a peek into the bureaucracy that is the Administration. It hasn’t been a straightforward case up until this point; with the Justice department calling it corporate sabotage only to change their minds and decide to head down anyway. Just like in other government organisations, it seems that some relationships between departments are a trifle strained, and I&I and Justice seem to be two with such issues. Departmental reorganisation is something they still don’t have down to a fine art in the Administration’s time. (The beauty of it, again, is that it’s something all too familiar to life in the world of today.) So under the veil of everything being perfectly controlled, we still have companies fighting amongst themselves, and the government departments who are meant to be keeping everything in check fighting amongst themselves.

 

I&I, we learn, now focusses its attention on political or politically important crimes, while Justice gets the lower-end civilian stuff– where previously I&I seemed to get everything that had a rather extreme (death or the ominous-sounding re-education) sentence attached to it. (Presumably, too, the shift in responsibilities would have pissed off Justice employees who would have lost the more “prestigious” cases.) This case falls uncomfortably between Justice and I&I with a “regular” civillian death, and one of a powerful more noticeable figure… which suggests corporate involvement.

 

Anyway, Tillotson wants Toreth to sort everything out, and quickly, and he’s given him the order to clear everyone else away and get things wrapped up.

 

Toreth arrives at the research centre to see a heap of Justice officials and one of his investigation team members, Belqola.

The interactions through the book  between Belqola and Toreth are again, realistically crafted, and they add to the story. (I love hearing about Toreth’s team and their interactions with him: he has a knack for getting the good ones and is apparently high in demand, and like everything he does professionally, he has educated reasoning behind it even if other people can’t see things the way he does. He assembles a really good team of subordinates, for the most part.) Belqola was presumably chosen because he had very good training grades, and while Toreth has a policy about not sleeping with his team members, he’s also easy on the eyes. Belqola is flaky, though, having run late from home, and now been sanctioned to outside the investigation because he has no supervisor present. Toreth isn’t impressed though he doesn’t really have time for this shit and gets to work securing the investigation.

There’s a bit of quibbling with Justice who still want the investigation, but Toreth moves them off fairly easily and his own team arrive, so he hands the paperwork and liaising with Justice part over to Belqola. (Ouch.) When the others– and some temps– get there, he gets them working on their respective parts in the investigation and goes off to talk to the legislator’s admin who was on the scene with Justice earlier. (And presumably, whose presence necessitated getting the whole thing sorted out quickly.)

Keilholtz was waiting for him in a small office on the first floor. As Toreth entered, he stood up. Ten years experience had taught Toreth that many people who saw an I&I uniform approaching under these circumstances appeared a little apprehensive.

Again, loving the details here; revealing without obviousness. Toreth is clearly competent and experienced in his role (and a good manager of people– which possibly explains why he’s not in Tillotson’s role– ha!)– and also, the mention of the influence of the I&I uniform is interesting to note as well. The Administration likes uniforms, it seems: the admins wear grey, presumably office-type garb, the Justice officers wear blue (which makes it easy to imagine that they’re in a police-type role), and I&I– have a somewhat ominous, sci-fi series bad guy black getup.

However hard the Administration pushed the line that the Investigation and Interrogation Division was a virtuous force for ensuring the safety of citizens against terrorists and other criminals, for those caught up in an investigation, the second “I” tended to take on overwhelming significance.

 

Again, I love this. I love that there is fear and distrust about the division and the system, despite the fact that speaking out against it is regarded as an act of sedition. And in spite of that, the Administration still uses publicity and fear-mongering about terrorism– to try and mollify the population. Very human, and all too reminiscent of how things operate at the moment. Clearly terrorists are still scary in the future, though later down the track and with some more clues about the world they’re living in, it’s possibly easier to see that there could be a tad more justification there than there is, say, right now.

Toreth begins the interview with Keilholtz who explains that he’s there on behalf of the legislator– the Science and Technology Law Division need to keep in mind that there needs to be regulation around virtual worlds and the technology allowing for them. (Which all sounds smart– and typical. I can’t help but think about how long it’s taking the world to get its shit in order regarding legislation around the internet and copyright– the technology surpassed the authorities in governing it and slapping down laws on things. After that, you can understand why they’d be a bit quicker on the uptake when it comes to technology used to create virtual worlds.*)

 

* By the way, an article I was reading last night suggested that in ten years, we’re going to have graphics which will be indistinguishable from reality. I always thought it was going to happen, but didn’t know when and assumed it wouldn’t be in my lifetime. I would also like to point out that this world– even with its advanced technology and its characters who may be extraordinary in some ways (but who are still well-rounded enough to be believable) is still far more skilled at suspending my disbelief than a certain other thing I’m reading at the moment which is set in modern day America. Basically, I believe that the events in The Administration are more likely at some point in time, than any of the batshit crazy that is in 50 Shades of Grey. There. I said it.

 

Clearly the legislator realises the potential of the sim and what it could possibly spell for the world. While Toreth points out the prohibitively expensive nature of the technology, the legislator Keilholtz is representing, Legislator Nissim, is of the opinion that one day it’s going to be affordable and accessible for everyone. (Hmm. I’m inclined to agree when I think about how IBM thought there’d be a market for eight computers way back when… but I’m also thinking about all those “future technologies” TV shows that were on the air when I was a kid which told us that in the year 2000, we’d have flying cars and Trekkie technology.) Nissim clearly has an interest in the sim and seems to be in support of SimTech and all for assisting them.

Toreth turns the interview back to the case and asks about the dead grad student. Keilholtz has no idea who she is, and was only here because he was meant to be having a demonstration of the sim himself. He explains that the legislator already has the sim technology at home and that once the murder was discovered, Justice moved him out of the way.

Since he’s the admin of a legislator— and he doesn’t seem to have much else to say– and he’s going to be inconvenienced by remaining in London when he’s due back in France– Toreth lets him go, and has a look at the crime scene for himself. He doesn’t know the dead girl, it wasn’t the same room he’d used with Warrick– he thinks.

Over his career Toreth had learned not to rely on anyone’s recollections, even his own; he had heard too many witnesses give honestly recounted but wildly inaccurate stories.

Hmmm. While that’s actually true and can be backed up with psychology references, it’s probably further exemplified when torturing information out of someone is a legal part of the interviewing process.

The forensics people are already there getting a handover from the Justice forensics people, and we get a bit more insight into intradepartmental politics: the service providers get a rather enviable position of not really being in conflict with any of the other departments. (Again, it makes perfect sense.)

After introducing himself to Toreth, the head of the Justice forensics team explains what’s going on with the dead girl, which only gives reason for more questions.

“[…] How, when– all the usual.”

“Twenty-two hundred, give or take a little. How, you’ll have to ask them.” He gestured to the I&I team. “Although there were lots of things it wasn’t. She hasn’t been shot, stabbed, strangled, beaten to death or poisoned with anything I can pick up here.”

“Give me a guess.”

The man looked pained. “I’m not psychic.”

“Come on– you’ll never have to see her again.”

The man smiled wryly. “There is that, Para. If you insist– I’d say she stopped breathing. That’s what it looks like to me. I know–that’s only a symptom, But I’m not going as far as a cause; you know what’s likely as well as I do.”

So there’s nothing decisive yet, just more questions about the how, the why, and the overall nature of her death.

Bringing his own trusted forensics people in, he gets them looking at things, and goes on to see Warrick.

 

So here we have the beginning of the investigation, and, as a reader, the realisation that there is a HEAP of stuff going on, and the subplots and the details and even the most random of characters are all fleshed out wonderfully. The writing is also tight and concise; with this much going on it’s amazing that it doesn’t get really fucking wordy, but the pacing is done well: while you’re not stuck in one spot for too long going, “Damn, I’m bored, I think I’ll go read something else/Hey! I’m going to watch an entire season of anime!/Hmmm… you know what I’ve always wondered about? Thermodynamics. Let’s start reading as much material on that as possible…” you’re also not whisked through everything too quickly for it to have any meaning or personality.

I love, too, that the sexual relationship between Warrick and Toreth doesn’t overshadow the thriller aspect of the novel, and it doesn’t feel like it’s been pasted in to spice up a futuristic crime novel either. It’s just a beautiful combination of so many rarities all at once.

Mind Fuck, Manna Francis; Chapter Six

Sometimes, the best part of a romance is in those first kick-off moments where two parties are getting acquainted and testing the waters with one another and holding off on doing anything too overt. And sometimes, once all that’s over, and the parties get comfortable with one another, it gets boring. Some spark is lost, and there’s no room for movement, and familiarity breeds contempt or something, and then you’re stuck in a marriage that is so intolerable that you need to find salvation in Twilight fanfiction and…

The good news is that Toreth and Warrick don’t wind up there. The other good news is that the opening bars of their relationship, the dabbling around with one another, the game aspect– is awesome as well. They’re one of the few couples with whom I don’t want to instantly fall in love/lust/like with one another, because watching them in their early stages is compelling enough anyway.

 

So, Toreth (with his fake name) and Warrick (who realises that Toreth is using a fake name), round two.

They’ve both arrived at the proposed restaurant. Not at the same time; Toreth has been waiting, and making every effort to look effortless and unruffled by this; Warrick is late, with equal levels of disaffectedness about it.

And they’re both completely switched on to what they’re dealing with, from Warrick refusing a pre-dinner drink until he’s eating, and Toreth catching that suspicion just after the refusal. Nonetheless, it’s clear that he wants to control the way things move throughout the night, and that he’s still confident enough to believe that he can.

“What shall we have to start with?” Toreth asked as a silence filler.

Warrick turned the page back and studied the selection. “Well, to start with, you can tell me your real name.”

Score one, Warrick. That was fucking smooth.

Toreth blinked. Damn it, just when he thought he had a handle on the situation the man managed something else unsettling. “I beg your pardon?” he asked.

Warrick’s gaze flicked up long enough to catch his flustered expression, and then returned to the menu. “I think now that this has extended to dinner, a real name is only polite since you know mine. Usually I ask before letting someone come in my mouth, but I think, under the circumstances, that really didn’t count.”

I love Warrick’s sense of humour. And I can so see him saying it, too, perfectly deadpan.

Toreth, of course, is realising that he’s trying for a reaction, and because Toreth does not like losing control– and has no desire to do it again– he tries to think of a response and–

“Very well, if you insist, I shall guess.” He laid the menu down and steepled his fingers. “Mm, let me see. Something like Toth, I imagine, because that makes it easier to respond to naturally. And you don’t look like a Marcus, so let us discount that completely. Something like… Valantin Toreth, perhaps?”

Oh, score. Again, I can so totally see this happening in my mind, and Warrick looking ever-so-slightly triumphant but being so calm about it all that it seems so fucking unfair that this isn’t a TV series.

 

(Also, Valantin is a fucking awesome name. I love the names these charactars have. The setting described seems to take into account the shift in trends that occurs every few ages with baby names, and the names this generation of characters has have a futuristic yet familiar-enough feel. You could name your kids after characters in the series and people wouldn’t go “Lemme guess, you’re a fan of [insert franchise here], aren’t you?”– they’d just think you’ve chosen something a bit obscure.)

 At this rate, speechlessness looked set to become a permanent condition. After a moment, he managed to say, “It’s Val Toreth. And I always go by Toreth.”

Statement confirmed, Warrick then quite casually resumes the conversation where it was before he’d interrupted it with that, and orders dinner.

That’s something else about this series that bears mentioning: while nothing gets bogged down in wordy description, Manna Francis frequently uses food to help set a mood. It’s a bit of an in-joke amongst fans of the series, with one happy reviewer saying

 ‘Wow: sex, food, torture, conspiracy and family gatherings!’

of the series in the early days. All the things that a lot of writers can’t do well or ignore, but which are written beautifully here.

And it’s done seamlessly, too; it doesn’t feel clunky and like the writer is trying to put her own “special twist” on the story; it feels like just part of the world, a little piece of the puzzle which subtly shows the reader what’s going on. Not being much of a foodie myself (my mother once said that I would rather take a pill than sit down and have a meal– and she was correct. Even now, my attitude to food is, “Does it contain animal products?” and “Is it palatable?” and if the former is a “no,” and the latter is a “yes,” that’s good enough for me. I’m a total black sheep in a family full of people who love food and cooking.) usually this sort of thing goes over my head, but it’s done well and in a way that compliments the story, so even when the technical details go over your head, you can appreciate it as part of the environment.

Toreth, of course, is dying to know how the hell Warrick blew his cover. Warrick obliges: everything was above board, of course: there was no reading top-secret files on I&I employees; Warrick merely used his charm in a manner that could be described as …social engineering. Not only does he explain this to Toreth, but he manages to spread on a healthy layer of flattery, too. And it’s working; Toreth is aware of it, too, and his awareness of losing ground combined with his determination to win this thing is only adding to his stress and causing him to unintentionally reveal his hand.

And of course he’s reading below the surface, and is very much aware that Warrick doesn’t trust him.

 The upfront revelation that he knew Toreth’s name was a clear signal saying “I know who you are and you can be damn sure that someone else knows I’m here.”

Another small detail I love is how they’re eating their hors d’oeuvres:

Toreth picked up one of the little biscuits, topped with a fish and herb roulade arrangement and disposed of it in two bites as Warrick began another delicate deconstruction.

I love the way we get to see these subtle — but completely opposite– differences not explicitly stated, but quietly shown, especially when you consider that in many ways, they are quite similar.

The signals were intriguing– wariness and definite interest. Some people had a thing for interrogators, and, by extension, for para-investigators. They were usually people who had no firsthand experience of the profession. Toreth couldn’t understand it. There was nothing sexually exciting about interrogation — it was a skilled, technically demanding, and occasionally boring job. On the other hand, despite the general distaste with which I&I staff regarded “interrogator junkies,” Toreth had no moral objection to taking full advantage of the kink when the opportunity arose.

Of course, he’s wondering if that’s Warrick, though comes to the conclusion that it isn’t– Warrick’s probably has a good idea of the reality, and his disgust and reaction in the sim were genuine.

Yet here he was. Interesting. Suggestive, maybe, that Warrick had some deeply hidden fascination in there after all. That would be a nice little piece of self-knowledge to give him.

In good time, of course. Being a professional people-reader has its advantages, and Toreth isn’t about to do anything right at the moment.

 

Warrick asks Toreth how he found his experience in the sim. And that’s where we see Toreth’s manipulation subside a little; he quite earnestly tells Warrick how amazing it was. Maybe he’s caught off guard. Maybe he’s able to appreciate that a crafty liar will pepper lies with enough truth to make the lies look like they could be honest. Or maybe Toreth’s just dropped the game because hey, the simulated reality offered in the sim is fucking amazing and it’s the sort of thing Toreth isn’t used to. (Presumably the novelty could dull for those used to it, but for a guy working strictly in a very real—and often, presumably, bleak—environment, the sim was a bright ray of something rare for him: escapism, beauty, fantasy. I can completely understand the appeal of the sim. I can understand it even moreso for someone like Toreth who says it’s magical and the scenery is stunning.)

Warrick notes Toreth’s enthusiasm, though the defences are still up for him: Toreth’s line of work is called into things again: others in his field, as Warrick says, have no problem seeing past the beauty of the sim.

“You can’t blame the Administration for appreciating the technology.” Time to throw out an opening. “Or the potential applications.”

“Applications.” Warrick grimaced. “No, I suppose not.”

One thing that really interests me is the way language is used by those in the Administration surrounding the activities of I&I. I wouldn’t call it dehumanising, but sanitising, distancing language—and it’s something consistent with language used in areas where others are harmed “all in a day’s work.” It’s fascinating and haunting at the same time, and the way Toreth casually describes the idea of using the sim for torture (or serious headfuckery) as “potential applications” is just so… blasé. And yet realistic.

And Warrick is still disgusted by the notion.

 

Even though the conversation seems stopped, and they shift to talking about the food they’re eating (Warrick picks apart his meal because he doesn’t like the pastry it comes with: I’m loving Warrick’s finicky food dissection, actually), Warrick is still clearly bothered—or trying to throw Toreth off-guard—and continues asking about his line of work.

With some very subtle Toreth-prompting, of course, but Toreth is aware that some part of him is interested.

“Why do you enjoy it?”

Not, Toreth noted, Do you enjoy it? “The money’s decent,” he said. “The hours aren’t bad. There’s a lot of variety.” Warrick watched him, silently assessing the reasons as he offered them. “I like the people I work with, and even some of the people I work for. It has an excellent career structure. And I’m good at it.”

Er, wow. I think that’s the sort of statements government departments actually want people to give when they’re collecting material for recruitment promos. It’s an interesting comparison to public service in the present; almost like the job satisfaction is another aspect of the future that seems to have been sorted out in government departments. (Though there’s still the human dissatisfaction, as shown through people like Chevril and the anonymous greenery thieves and the workers perusing the newsletters considering work outside the department yet still in associated industries. Though I don’t at all doubt Toreth’s sincerity here, either.)

“You make it sound like any other job.”

“It is like any other job.”

Something probably worth pointing out is that Toreth has a different vantage point to Warrick. Not working in a particular area, and hearing about the worst aspects of employees of, or practices within an organisation is going to shape the public’s view of those people and organisations. People will know a little bit and assume a lot. (As has been demonstrated by the existence of the clueless—though amusing— interrogation junkies.) For what we know at this point, ninety per cent of Toreth’s job could be paperwork in the office, investigating crime scenes and talking to witnesses (and I mean actual talking to, not euphemism-for-interrogation “talking to”), reading through company reports, writing reports for his managers to justify expenditure—but in someone like Warrick’s mind, all of that is overshadowed by the fact that paras are allowed to torture people in interrogations and suddenly it becomes the main feature of the job. It’s in no way writing off that part of Toreth’s job does include torturing people, but I can see how it might not be at the forefront of Toreth’s mind: he’s got a more holistic idea about what he does, Warrick does not.

Neither of them are objective about Toreth’s work, and Warrick’s work doesn’t contain elements that are explicitly (and publicly known) about hurting people. It’s an interesting situation, especially when you take into account the fact that Warrick admittedly is fine with playing in an unbalanced-in-his-favour arena, and Toreth has demonstrated that there’s nothing at all personal in what he does. (But hey, a system is made up of components, and here’s where I want to start bringing in discussion about Milgram’s famous experiments with the “electrocution” and Asch’s conformity work which essentially showed that people will do something even though they know it’s wrong because everyone else is doing the same thing, and for a lot of people—normal people—it’s scarier to do the right thing and risk “rocking the boat” by not doing it. And talking about social psychology relating to this stuff would be incomplete without mentioning three words: Stanford Prison Experiment. But that’s all for another time, right?*)

 

* I could actually geek out about this stuff until I drop dead; the idea of “what makes ordinary people indifferent to harming others?” is one of those things which has fascinated me since I was a kid. Conformity, deviance and social systems and how people work is interesting stuff, hey.
All of this is beautifully encapsulated in the series, which is probably one reason why I adore it. Another thing is that Manna Francis isn’t at all a biased narrator. This series could have failed amazingly if other people had written it. It could have been a “patriotic” series with pro-right undertones about the system is great and good and that while Toreth might be a bit cold, he’s on the right side and that people even questioning the use of torture aren’t patriots and they’re obviously terrorists. It could have been a floppy lefty “Everything is a big horrible dictatorship and everything needs to be overthrown and we shall all have our freedom” thing. It wouldn’t be hard to turn the series into thinly-veiled ideology, and Manna Francis hasn’t done that at all, and it’s amazing. In interviews, you get an idea of how Manna feels about the world Warrick and Toreth are in, but in the narrative, not at all. It’s a rare treat when the reader is allowed to make up their own mind about how they feel about things.

 

The suspicion from Warrick still hasn’t abated by the main course (he was scared that Toreth is going to try drugging him when he nicked off to the toilet!) which he picks apart in the same sort of way he ate his hors d’oeuvres. Again, I’m loving the attention to detail here, and the interaction between them crackles.

Guided by Warrick’s behaviour, Toreth is certain that there’s some interest from him… he just needs to convince him that he’s safe. A bit of a tall order when you’re a para, I suppose.

In the flash of a second, taking advantage of a small window of human error—Toreth slips something into his drink.

 

We don’t know much about the drug, though the idea is that it’ll be something to help Warrick relax—and I’ll be perfectly honest, there is no way ever that this ever looks non-creepy. And it’s not meant to. Toreth has a funny way of coming across as quite charming– or human, at least– and then when least expected, pulling off a move or dropping a bomb that is heart-stopping.

Further to this point, though, he acknowledges to himself that he’s cheating at the game.

 

Dinner over, Toreth finally goes in for the kill.

“Would you like to come up to my room?” Toreth asked.

Warrick laughed incredulously. “Excuse me for asking a rather obvious question, but do you think I’m insane?”

Oh, snaps to Warrick. That was awesome. I think I may just borrow that line.

Slightly taken aback by the directness of the answer, Toreth shook his head.

“Ah, stupid, then, neither of which I’m afraid is true.” Warrick eyed him, assessingly. “You are, what, half a head taller than me? And a good few kilos heavier, all of which is muscle.” Toreth recognised the flattery slipped so casually into the conversation again, but, buoyed by half a bottle of wine plus extras, he enjoyed it anyway.

“So insanity or stupidity would be required for me to place myself in a situation alone with you.” Warrick took another sip of his drink, savoured the flavour for a moment. “And in any case, I don’t sleep with torturers, Administration-approved or not.”

 

Yeah. Definitely not an interrogation junkie. Also, I was disappointed for Toreth here, even though Warrick is perfectly right and Toreth has just drugged his drink, so he’s got the same sort of trustworthy factor as a dodgy politician. But something makes you root for the guy all the same. He’s like the coyote on the old Warner Bros. cartoons and you kind of feel bad for him that he’s looking so easily dismantled and so obviously outclassed.

Warrick finishes his drink, and by the end of it, though, and with a little reassurance from Toreth, he’s changing his mind.

“I wasn’t planning to hurt you.”

That got a sharp glance and Toreth had the sudden impulse to add “Unless you’d like me to.” However, that would have been too much. Instead, he spread his hands. “It would be stupid of me to even think about it, wouldn’t it? You know who I am.”

Warrick appears to reconsider his earlier rejection and says that maybe it’s a deal if Toreth tells him how he felt in the sim.

Diabolical and yet perfectly in character: presumably Warrick does have to deal with making deals with various people involved with the sim and its funding and projects. And for Toreth, who didn’t mind the experience—but for the feelings he was having whilst going through it—presumably talking about that crowning moment of glory isn’t really on his bucket list.

 

They head to the bar to talk, and Toreth takes it slowly, admitting that he did enjoy it until Warrick shuts him down, reminding he wouldn’t have called it rape if he had truly enjoyed what had happened in there.

 

Random reader moment of “thank fucking god.” Seriously. These people act– and interact– like adults. They are talking about issues of consent. They’re not pretending that everything was above-board or that it didn’t happen or that consent not being an issue is okay when one party decides they had a good time after all, or all the other bazillion really fucked up things I’ve encountered in fic (both published AND of the fan variety, by the way). I don’t follow the whole “everyone needs to give explicit, obvious consent to everything or else it’s rape” idea in fiction, but when clearly there are at least dubious consent issues and one character does call what happened “rape” there’s no “let’s just make them fuck consensually and we’ll pretend that bit didn’t happen” which I have unfortunately seen before.

It’s not about absolving anyone, either. It’s about acknowledging something that occurred.

“You know what I felt. Code word or not, you trapped me and you humiliated me.” He shied away from the vivid memory of his own pleading voice in the sim. “You took away my control and you made me beg you to fuck me.”

And, well, brought him here. Describing it. Getting humiliated by the flashbacks.

Toreth is a step ahead of me as a reader (by this point, I’ll admit, I’m very much, “Warrick, you shit.”) and realises that Warrick’s projecting his own wants and desires onto Toreth, and because it’s probably not the easiest thing in the world to ask someone to do that to you, he’s gone and done it to someone—a gifted people-reader—and that person– him— has figured him out.

 

There’s some more thrashing about from them—verbally, of course—while Toreth lines up Warrick to get him to “beg for it.” Which he does, via being asked for—and providing—an apology for what he did to Toreth in the sim.

Warrick’s apology is interesting, though, and possibly serving more than just the request from Toreth: I can’t help but think that somewhere, there was genuine remorse and a sense of “shit, I’ve gone way too far here” from Warrick. Even though it doesn’t look like it:  rest assured, everyone, this isn’t the end of their game-playing (YAY!).

Toreth thought it was the most beautifully unapologetic apology he had ever heard. “Apology accepted. Now…” he said, pulling the pause out, “…what can I do in return?”

Silence, and Toreth smiled. His catch was hooked, and only barely still resisting the pull to the net. “Very well, in that case let me guess. Something like the sim, but not quite. Changing places. Losing control for a little while. And some danger—just enough to give it an edge.” His smile slipped into something almost predatory. “A different kind of game.”

Bingo. I love the play on this, too: it’s so similar to when Warrick was in this role showing Toreth that he knew who he was by name.

Warrick stared at him, as if hypnotised, then nodded slowly. “That’s…a good guess.”

“I read people for a living,” Toreth said casually, and relished the delightful contradiction of the grimace of distaste on Warrick’s mouth and the sharpening of desire in his eyes.

God, he loved being right.

And Toreth emerges as completely fucking awesome here. And this is the bit I think he relishes about his work, exactly what he’s enjoying here: cracking Warrick. Figuring out both what he wants and how to get him to admit to it even though he really doesn’t want to.

And again, it’s a fascinating comparison, because some of Warrick’s actions later down the track deal with that, but with… systems. (He’s already admitted to social engineering in order to learn Toreth’s name, too, remember.) Toreth erm, hacks people.

 

And that’s when Warrick trusts him enough to go back to his hotel room. Warrick is, amusingly, given all his time in virtual reality—completely tripped out by what’s going on.

Toreth wastes absolutely no time in offering Warrick the domination he’s asked for, and gets him to choose a safe word. This is where the world gets one of the funniest—and cutest­—safewords ever used in anything ever. Obviously Warrick remembers the pensive bath he was having in the sim prior to dinner, and chooses “Plastic duck.” And, SPOILER– this gets carried right through the series.

 

(And because this is pretty much such an obscure fandom, and because beyond the books themselves there is no associated merch [I saw a Shades board game the other day on eBay. Fuck knows what you have to do to win that, but really, people], it’s become a little bit of an in-joke with me and the plastic ducks. Absolutely no one gets it, either, but it means that I can have fannish desktop backgrounds on my work computers and no one is going to look at a plastic duck like I’m a fucking pervert.)

And now that they’ve set that up, Toreth takes his cue.

“Close your eyes.”
“Why?”

Too fast for Warrick to react, Toreth slapped him across the face, rocking his head back and bringing a heat to his cheek that set off an echoing flash of warmth in his stomach.

“Close your eyes,” Toreth repeated calmly.

Warrick obeyed. The handprint still glowed on his skin, each finger distinct. He felt himself hardening, the tell-tale response out of his control.

“You liked that?” Toreth started to move round him again, touching, rough and gentle, pain and pleasure, oddly impersonal and intensely arousing. “What else do you like, I wonder? Do you want me to fuck you? Not that I care whether you want it—I’m going to do it anyway. You were right to think twice about coming up here with me. Still think you made the right choice?”

Of course, Warrick’s got a way of stopping anything he doesn’t want, but until he utters the safe word, it’s not something either of them are giving much thought to.

And both of them somehow get what they want and they were wanting from one another from much earlier on than either of them admitted. I could quote and offer commentary on the sex, but to be honest there’s not a great deal to say that the scene itself doesn’t. It’s nicely written, in character for both of them, and there’s thankfully no purple prose or hideous euphemisms. (There are only so many manrods and boypussys a girl can handle in a lifetime, and I’m pretty sure fanfiction has thoughtfully gifted me with someone else’s quota too.) There are some nice little touches; Toreth makes use of his restraint training (and wishes he’d brought handcuffs—if only he’d known that was what Warrick wanted…), for example, and Warrick is still analysing things, realising that the sim fails to replicate incidental background noise and maybe that should be addressed. It’s very much real-and-them without turning into a different narrative, either, which is also refreshingly awesome.

The situation itself is—and this is a wonderful metaphor for the relationship between Toreth and Warrick which follows—“imperfectly perfect”, in Warrick’s mind. It’s a bit messed up. It’s a bit dangerous. It’s not really meant to last. It’s imperfectly perfect.

And that’s the appeal.

And it’s gorgeously in sync with who they are and what they like. There’s an element of role-playing to an extent only: part of what they’re bringing are very real and day-to-day parts of who they are.

 

Toreth is thoroughly pleased with himself afterwards, and he walks off to have a shower when Warrick has come down, whistling to himself as he tends to when he’s in a “job well done” frame of mind. He vaguely considers that he wouldn’t mind doing it in future, though Warrick’s going to have to contact him for it. (Toreth doesn’t like doing the chasing. Or at least, his pride doesn’t allow for him to look like he’s doing the chasing, and he’s well aware that Warrick is observant enough to see through his bullshit.)

Things are a bit different for Warrick.

The realisation of who Toreth is—what he does for a living, that

Toreth’s job left him adept at knowing how far to push, how much pain to use and how to read the response to it. And, God, he’d loved it. Loved every minute of it, knowing who and what he was. What those hands did for a living.

–gets at him. He decides that this is most definitely a one-off and that it’s never going to happen again.

 

Both of them are considering what they’ve just done, and thinking about what the other is thinking. Another round over, the game still, somehow existing even though Toreth probably won that round and it should have been over now. But there’s a hesitation as Warrick leaves the hotel.

 

Like hell it’s over.

Mind Fuck, Manna Francis; Chapter Five

What’s the difference between Toreth in Mind Fuck and Christian in 50 Shades of Grey?

 

One’s an irredeemable sociopath and control freak with possessive, childishly jealous tendencies who frequently oversteps his boundaries, who engages in kinky sex which goes to potentially dangerous levels, and who does horrible, hideous things without even realising that they’re horrible and hideous, and whom any sane reader would like to see get his comeuppance.

 

The other one is just Val Toreth (though let’s face it, the guy has a few, erm, quirks).

 

Okay, joking around aside, there are an awful lot of differences. It’s a bit like comparing, I dunno, Ronald McDonald to John Wayne Gacy.

I mean, Ronald McDonald is pretty good at creeping out a lot of people, and he is what he is, and by nature that’s quite alarming and disturbing, but when you hear about him kidnapping, raping and murdering people, then we’re talking a whole new ballpark of scary.

 

 

Oh, wait: that’s sort of what the Administration does to people in some instances, and Toreth is quite nonchalently involved.

 

Yeah… but Christian Grey is still creepier. He does that Keyser Soze thing where “the greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing the world he does not exist” in convincing the world that he’s harmless and lovable. That’s not something you can accuse Val Toreth of doing.

 

Ahem. Chapter Five of Mind Fuck.

 

 

Toreth is back in his hotel room, chilling out after his rather unorthodox experience in the sim, a bit tripped out, but thinking about how he’s going to win this round. That’s what this has turned into for him: he might have enjoyed himself, but being a control freak who thought he had everything handled, and seeing himself at Warrick’s mercy, he’s kind of shitty about it and wants to save face.

And because he’s smart– and he’s got his dignity– and his job– to worry about, he’s not going to go the physical.

 

[I]t had been tempting to simply punch him in the face right there and walk off. However, that would have been cheap and easy. Worse, it would only have increased the score in Warrick’s favour. Revenge required more than that and dinner was the first step to getting it. He would see Warrick again, and he would come up with some way of demonstrating to him exactly how experienced professionals played mind games.

 

It wasn’t just embarrassing to him on a basic level: Toreth’s professional abilities were mocked in that exchange. He’s meant to be the expert mind-gamer, and he got played. All through, we’re getting a growing picture of Toreth as a man who actually likes what he’s doing and who cares about his work and his employment status.

We also get the idea of him being utterly scary in a way that we haven’t seen before.

 

On the way back to the hotel, he had run through  a very satisfying scenario involving drugs from work, a set of handcuffs, and a prolonged and nasty rape. Or, given the mood he was in by the time he’d finished polishing the details, short and nasty. He’d elaborated upon it in the shower, then discarded the fantasy to concentrate on finding something practical.

 

Everyone loves revenge fantasies, don’t they? Everyone has those staircase moments– L’esprit de l’escalier— where you come up with the perfect comeback as you’re walking away and powerless, moments after getting in a good comeback might have saved face. Or made you look cool. Or like you’re the one in control.

Everyone loves the idea of doing something awful to someone who’s already paid forward the favour. Or, well, okay, a lot of us do. The difference is with Toreth– and this is where the dude’s scariness gets multiplied– he actually could do some of the stuff he has revenge fantasies about.

 

Could do it, but is smart enough– and self-controlled enough– to realise that it would be incredibly stupid– and damaging– and pointless– to do something that would harm a well-protected, noticeable corporate. Isn’t that noble, ladies and gentlemen: he’s not torturing someone not because torturing people is bad, but because he would suffer as a result of it. Very Classical theory in Criminology, but hey, it works for him. (And when you know what the law can do to you for transgressions, because you’re doing those things in your 9-5 workday, you’re probably more likely to weigh up the consequences and consider the value of  committing crime: punishment is more than a vague threat. And unlike many law enforcement organisations of today, Int-Sec seems to be more impartial and fair– and as harsh on its own as it is on others. Yet another thing to like about the system.)

 

A bruised ego was hardly sufficient reason to risk prison or worse. In a way, it was also too unimaginative, almost pedestrian, after the experience in the sim. Worst of all, Warrick would win again.

 

Oh, Toreth. Pride is a nice motivation to behave yourself, too.

 

However much he screamed (and he would scream– the part of Toreth’s mind still enjoying the fantasy added a gag to the list of proper required), it wouldn’t change that basic fact. Toreth would have resorted to force to get what Warrick had managed to enjoy without.

So. What exactly had Warrick done? He’d humiliated Toreth completely. He’d made him lose every shred of self-control. He’d made him beg, and then keep begging for more after that. He’d stood at a safe distance and watched every detail on Toreth’s face while it happened. For God’s sake, he’d even told him what he planned to do in the message he’d left at the hotel.

And he’d made sure Toreth had a way out for the entire time.

 

Oh, burn. The realisation of what he did is positively painful for Toreth, and even the first time I read this, before I realised that I liked the guy, I was cringing for him. You know when you totally fall for something shitty someone else has pulled on you and it’s stupid and you’re too mesmerised or distracted at the time to realise what’s going on, and then afterwards just *thinking* about what happened– and your own part in it– makes you just squirm? And you replay it over and over in your brain and you can’t just let it go and it’s just awful and embarrassing and– yeah.

While it was kind of awesome to see a professional game player out-played, it was also kind of really uncomfortable.

Thinking about the situation– as Toreth does, doesn’t give him any relief: he’s aware that he was fully aware, completely able to stop it, and that that sort of being-totally-dominated thing isn’t his cup of tea, but that was.. enjoyable.

 

And the sim and its reality is still haunting him. As are thoughts of Warrick’s more appealing features. Half still fantasising, partially considering calling the dinner date off, and yet …wondering if he can turn on the charm and get Warrick up into his hotel room for some non-simulated sexual action, Toreth decides that he’s going to return the favour and screw around with Warrick’s self-image and play some headgames with him.

 

He would go to dinner and find out something about Warrick he could use. Something the man wanted without even knowing it, without daring to acknowledge it. Something dark and dirty. And then give it to him, gift-wrapped, for him to enjoy.

 

Oh, you diabolical fiend, Toreth. That’s way better than becoming Christian Grey to make a point.

 

 

While all this is happening, we get an interesting contrast: Toreth has showered and been drinking in his hotel room, thinking hard about what move he’s going to make next, pissed off, nursing wounded pride and seething a bit.

Warrick, on the other hand, is luxuriating in a marble bath, enjoying the novelties of fluffy white bubbles, and lifelike plastic ducks (which quack and swim about: the programmers– like programmers in the real world– have a sense of humour)– in the sim. He’s thinking, too, about what had happened earlier in the afternoon, his involvement in it, and of what Toreth represents.

 

Still, the fuck, mental or not, had worked out well. Not surprising, since the deck had been unfairly stacked in his favour, but that was the way he preferred to play any game. Especially with dangerous opponents.

Interesting. While Warrick is one of the “better guys,” he still isn’t past wanting an unfair advantage whereas Toreth gives the impression of approaching something trying to find what he can use to his advantage, and doing things regardless of the odds being against him or not. It’s one of those subtle points which highlights how different they are and also how complex they are– and it was something I didn’t pick until I’d read through the series this time.

Warrick decides that yes, Toreth is dangerous, and that he really ought to cancel, that he should quit while he’s ahead. Similar to what Toreth is doing back at the hotel… but different, and of course for his own reasons.

 

He thinks about Toreth’s experience of the sim, and how he’d initially been amazed by it and the beauty of the design, and then how that had turned into cold, clinical professional interest. The sim is Warrick’s baby. It’s his creation, and he loves it… and longs to protect it from being corrupted. He’s smart enough to realise that not everyone is going to want the technology for noble and decent– or enjoyable– purposes, but he’s not giving it up for nefarious purposes easily. As he said in the lecture, he can’t control what people do with it down the track… but for now, he can hold onto its innocence.

 

Toreth’s interest in the sim as a potential tool for interrogation wasn’t just an insult to its beauty and design: it was a threat. And like a parent seeing their offspring attacked, he sought to mess with that threat, hitting where he suspected it would hurt, collecting Toreth right in the ego.

 

What I found really interesting about this is that logically, it stands up beautifully, awful as it was for Toreth– and as quietly violent as it came across from Warrick– but also because he was, in effect, demonstrating the abilities of the technology with the subtle insinuation of “See how you like it being used against you.”

 

Funny enough, though, I could imagine Toreth considering using the sim for altering surroundings, making people believe they were seeing things happen to their nearest and dearest, using sense-related head-fuckery (virtual-reality waterboarding? Repeated distressing sounds? — doing the sorts of things to people which have been heavily scrutinised by human rights groups and governments, though in an artificial setting, possibly rendering them benign in the eyes of legislation because they technically didn’t actually occur. What if you could virtually torture someone by merely screwing with their perception? In the way that waterboarding convinces the person subjected to it that they’re drowning, the sim could be used to convince people they’re dying, couldn’t it? And… this is seriously, seriously terrifying when you consider it. [Anyone played Batman: Arkham Asylum? That scene in the morgue just before Scarecrow shows up, where there’s a strange blur between Batman’s reality getting warped and what’s happening in the game– and being the game player who is unsure whether this is “reality” or something else is kind of nauseatingly freaky. That’s the sort of thing I imagined Toreth considering his department using the sim for. Turning someone into a vulnerable, sexed up pile of goo possibly didn’t occur to him.]) Interestingly enough, I can think of a later “demonstration” of something else in the series which is intended to provoke a reaction and lash out at someone– which has later, far-reaching, consequences. Warrick probably took more of a gamble than he thought he was, and it worked how he’d planned. Sort of, I guess.

 

Warrick actually considers what he did and the cruelty of it in a way that Toreth… doesn’t (or can’t, really). Again, a really interesting contrast between the two of them. While Toreth is analysing why he feels things and does things, he lacks an understanding of how his behaviour is in terms of, well, moral value. I don’t doubt he knows how things feel, but he doesn’t really get why doing things that upset or damage people is such a big deal. He also seems to lack, though, an understanding of why things affect him as badly as they do when he can’t rationalise them away with names and logic.

Warrick tells himself that Toreth could have called things off, and wonders about the man’s issues with control, with giving it up, and with …safety. The sim, of course, is safe. Risk can’t really be replicated if you’re going in completely aware.

And he likes that. But still…

 

…[H]e felt an unexpected touch of envy at the unattainable experience. How had it felt to be so controlled? Held there, so absolutely in another’s power.

 

And it seems he’s not just curious about this as some sort of abstract idea. Thinking again about what actually happened, though, he’s still uncomfortable with what he did to Toreth, though he can admit that he looked good in the throes of ecstasy.

And maybe, you know, he won’t cancel the dinner date.

 

The thought startled him. What he had done in the sim was one thing; it had been under his control, and above all, perfectly safe. It would be stark raving insanity even to consider doing anything with Toth in the real world.

 

He still doesn’t know who he actually is, either. He’s aware that he doesn’t know, and he’s fairly certain about what he is, but he doesn’t even know the guy’s name. And he realises that’s risky and problematic. I’d say Warrick is being astutely cautious here.

The man, whoever he was, tortured people to death for a living.

Well, he does other stuff, but that’s the bit everyone seems to focus on, isn’t it?

The problem is, Warrick is only human: knowing that someone is dangerous doesn’t necessarily turn off the hot factor.

 

But he had to admit that it had been a long time since he’d felt this intrigued by the idea of having someone outside the sim. Inside the sim, everything was so perfect, so pleasant, that he had lost interest in that aspect of the world outside.

 

Therein lies another question about the sim: could you get addicted to, well, fake fucking and fantasy, in the same way people can become obsessed with porn to the point where it starts encroaching on their experience of reality?

Warrick considers why he’s wanting reality at this point: is it that the sim itself is work, is it that Toreth is rather easy on the eye, or the thrill of danger?

 

We learn a bit more about the sim as Warrick considers the reality v simulation question. He himself had tried “sim things” in a real world where presumably physics didn’t work like that, though had stepped aside from using the technology until he’d stopped. Warrick, it appears, also has some self-awareness and self-control.

…[I]t had badly affected one of the graduate students. SimTech’s corporate psychologist had labelled it “excessive immersion.” They’d reassigned the girl to the more theoretical aspects of the work and that had resolved the issue.

 

But Warrick realises that’s not his issue at the moment: his issue is more that he wants the same guy who he’d set up and humiliated and who he realises is bloody scary and dangerous even though that’s a big part of his appeal. He wants the real him, in the flesh.

He decides he needs some more information about him, and that if he gets it, he’ll go along to dinner.

 

I loved getting to see Warrick’s mind at work. Admittedly, I’m still on Team Toreth, but I love that Warrick is, well, a decent match for Toreth. (It’s the same reason I adore Phoenix and Miles as a couple in Ace Attorney, and possibly why I would rather read same-sex relationship fic: they’re equals in many ways. I’ve come across too much “romance” about heterosexual people where one party is a wet rag and the other has to do everything for them including think. It’s like the stuff you come across in really awful yaoi manga, and completely unappealing—and unrealistic– for me.) They both have their own autonomy and bring their own power to the relationship, and they’re both there because first and foremost, they have made a conscious decision to be there. No one’s been swept away by the other’s manly intoxicating scent of manliness or something; they’re rational, sensible, slightly hedonistic people.

And Warrick might be entertaining submissive ideas, but he’s not a simpering, pathetic ditz. I don’t really get the whole submissive thing (though I don’t think that’s why I have such issues with Shades, by the way) personally, but I find it kind of insulting to see so often people with a particular sexual like being stereotyped in a way that reaches across to the rest of their personality. If we were talking about a kink that was actually harmful, or well beyond what civilised and openminded society would consider acceptable (look, I’m going to be a tad grossed out if necrophilia’s your thing and I’m going to draw unfavourable conclusions about you if you think those crush videos are sexy) a kink isn’t suggesting anything about someone’s day-to-day existence.

On the flipside, I suppose there’s the “dominant/sadist = remorseless, sickeningly cruel sociopath” stereotype, which certainly isn’t applicable here and which doesn’t hold up well in real life either. Toreth might enjoy screwing with people’s heads and manipulating them to do what he wants them to—but I don’t think a few revenge fantasies where his victim is screaming count as decisive evidence that he’s Ted Bundy in the making. He might not engage in awful behaviour because he’s scared of the legal repercussions if he gets caught, but he still doesn’t, and he shows far more restraint than, say, other fictional dominant type characters. I also don’t get the impression he enjoys torturing his detainees; he enjoys getting the information and doing his job well, but that seems more concerned with the man’s work ethic than a desire to just hurt people for kicks. There’s something far more sympathetic about Toreth than “he’s a sadistic, evil bad guy.” And while I usually am drawn to the bad guys in things like whoa, well, let’s face it: I really loathe Christian Grey (who appears to be more of a sadistic sociopath than Toreth from what we know about both of them).

 

Anyway, I love them. I forgot how awesome the opening gambits were for these two. I also love how succinct this book is: something I didn’t appreciate the first time I read it because I was sort of adjusting to everything, but fuck: it’s awesome. Not having seen unedited work from Manna Francis, I don’t know whether the woman thinks like an editor when she’s writing, or if she has a bloody good editor—or there’s a little from column A and a little from column B there, but it’s a tight, awesome read that we’re getting here.

 

The further I go through both series, the angrier I find myself getting, though.

Mind Fuck, Manna Francis; Chapter Four

So Dr. Warrick has plans up his sleeve.

Being the control freak that he is, rather than letting Toreth call all the shots, he leaves a message at the hotel Toreth is staying at, inviting him to “Come and experience the future of mind fucking for yourself.” You know, in the Sim, at the university.

And that’s at least somewhat intriguing to Toreth, who decides he’s not essential at this stage in his investigations (and that the suspects involved who are detained can just stay where they are and that if anything happens or if they decide to talk, then he’ll come in [not only do I want Toreth’s administrative assistant, but I kind of want his job… well, the workplace conditions, anyway]) and so takes the day off for the meeting.

And go to the gym. He does a lot of that over the course of the series.

Clearly the sim has people seeing the potential in it, and the SimTech offices seem to reflect that sort of investment, and Toreth gets a personal tour of the facilities from Warrick, where he starts second-guessing his initial judgement of the guy: could it be that he’s “too deeply in love with the sim to mix business and pleasure”?

Let’s face it, though: the sim is pretty fucking impressive.

Probably a brief description is in order: imagine a virtual reality where you’re lying on a couch, hooked up to sensors which are allowing you to interact with another reality, while you are in a sleep-like state. Obviously, when other people are hooked up to the machine at the same time as you, you get to interact with them and their projection. And it has the same sort of seductive “create your own avatar” reality of the internet in its early days (I can’t help but think with the growth in the internet and the fact that everyone’s using it nowadays– there’s more of a fusion between online and “real” life for a lot of people and a lot less of the sort of “you can be yourself… or not” stuff there was online in the, say, nineties) wherein you can ‘be’ or look like whatever you like. Theoretically, you can do anything as long as the programmers can make it so.

I’ve gotta admit, the sim’s potential could be a series of books in its own right, and the damn thing is practically a featured character. (And I will admit this, too: I love it. Like I love kittens and cocaine and being able to sleep uninterrupted. The sim rocks.)

Anyway, Toreth gets measured up and sorted out to use the sim– and Warrick offers the reader an explanation of the machine in another one of those “show not tell” moments. I love two things in particular about his description: firstly, Warrick’s knowledge of it and enthusiasm for it shine through amazingly. To be able to write something that doesn’t even exist, and to have it explained so well to an outside audience who have never encountered such a thing, and to make that enthusiasm so infectious that readers feel like they understand something that isn’t even real but that they get the hype about it? That’s impressive.

Secondly, the sim isn’t perfect, and the issues and limitations identified sound reasonable and give the thing another dimension of believability. I think everyone knows what it’s like when some new piece of technology or some new system is branded as the perfect, glitch-free thing which will change everything, and, well, it turns out to have more bugs than a Windows OS at release. This also explains SimTech’s need for volunteers and more data-gathering for further development of the sim… which is where things start to get interesting…But all of it makes sense and my disbelief is happily suspended, which is a mean feat when it comes to me and fiction.

Warrick also has a nice little safeword clause in there, too:

“While we’re waiting,” Warrick said, “I’d like you to choose a word and say it out loud. Some people don’t react well to the sim. If you start to feel dizzy, or sick, or if you want out for any reason at all, say the word and the computer will disconnect you automatically and immediately. I suggest you make it something you won’t say accidentally.”

“Chevril,” Toreth said clearly.

And two things on that note: a) I giggled, and b) I couldn’t help but think, “That was automatic… you’ve done this before (since starting work at I&I), haven’t you, Toreth?”

They opt for a short session: while Warrick explains that there’s no harm in using the sim for longer, like any other kind of weird experience (I know they recommend this with sensory deprivation tanks, too) it’s best to start small because it can “have some disorienting side effects.”

Toreth realises that he can see– and feel the reality of a room around him, but has the insight to know that it’s not real.

And his reaction is pretty much what mine would be under the circumstances, experiencing that for the first time: “Fucking hell.”

Warrick explains that the room they’re in is merely one of many– a test– and adjusts the sim to give them a different setting. Now they’re in an old-fashioned “club room” — woodsy with a library and lamps and carpets.

And this is the bit where I remember that Room of Requirement and what such an innovation did for the Harry Potter fandom. Remember after that turned up in book five, suddenly every second fic had the “where?” problem solved? The Room of Requirement could be called on in canon by characters who needed it desperately and it would morph into a bathroom or a hiding place or training grounds or what-not. For fanfic writers, it turned into some obscure sort of love hotel plot device where HP characters pretty much had a place and an excuse to get as kinky and as sexy as they wanted to. It was everything from a makeout closet to a fully-equipped BDSM dungeon. I swear, if JKR didn’t know what she did in writing it in, she would have found out pretty soon.The sim is like a real-life version of that, and let’s face it, that’s pretty fucking legendary.

We also get a bit of an idea about what Toreth looks like, too: yet again, Manna Francis does Show, not Tell, and as previously, doesn’t flash all the details about something in one go. I love how this is done.

Spotting a mirror on the wall, Toreth went over. Half expecting some strange effect, he saw only himself, imperfectly reflected in the antique mottled glass: short blonde hair waved back from his forehead, well-defined cheekbones, blue eyes he’d always thought of as one of his best features– currently appearing rather wide– narrowish chin,and lips he’d prefer to be a little fuller.

The usual slight shock of realising that despite studious use of moisturiser, he was thirty-two, not nineteen.

As for that last part, ye gawds. I have had moments of that, myself.

Anyway, Toreth is completely stunned by the sim’s reality, starting with when he sees a sim-reflection of himself in the sim-mirror. And just like he’s experiencing a perfect reflection of himself, we, the readers, get to experience the wonder of the technology through Toreth’s reactions to it. And it’s awesome and believable– not just the graphics– which previously Toreth assumed had been doctored up a bit for the presentation– but the input experienced by the user also moves into areas of the other senses: things feel and smell and presumably taste like real life, too. He’s understandably impressed.

And clearly Warrick is enjoying the affect it’s having on him, and his love for the sim is described in such a way that it isn’t just *obvious*, but contagious. He offers Toreth a drink– and yep– taste is a factor of the experience, too. Who wouldn’t want one of these things?Warrick shows Toreth some more scenes, including some outdoor ones and explains the link between them and the business investors (just imagine the possibilities this sort of immersive virtual reality has, people) and notes a few technical glitches, again, giving a real feel to the writing. I love that the sim is simultaneously perfect but not, and I love how both the author– and Warrick– understand this. And I love how Manna Francis manages to simultaneously give it an air of believability by having Warrick explain it– and she rides on his enthusiasm.

(That’s believable, too, and for me: well, it bypasses one of my pet peeves in sci-fi and fantasy, whereby the writer creates something they obviously think is it-and-a-bit but describe so casually that we’re expected to be a mind reader [and be as attached to as the writer] or go into an annoying, pain-staking, and unconvincing hardsell which manages to irk me rather than win me over.)

I also love that there is not oh-so-much technology in the world that needs serious explanation. Again, a common criticism I have of fantasy and futuristic writing is when a story gets mired down in explanation all the time or the flow is interrupted by a need to refer to footnotes. The Administration series completely avoids this: everything is explained succinctly and when it needs to be, and gradually, so the reader isn’t bombarded with a heap of information all at once; we’re eased into it… which makes it that much easier to buy. We adapt to the universe, it isn’t thrust upon us to make sense of in one great hit.

Warrick explains about the tactile experience of the sim and its capabilities, demonstrating that people can touch one another in the virtual world.

Of course, that makes Toreth have some questions about its capacity of his own.

“And what about pain?” he asked.

Warrick held his gaze for a moment, then stood up and turned back to the control panel, here hanging disconcertingly in mid-air. “Not in this program.”

Oh, ouch. Here we have something interesting: Warrick’s shown him this gorgeous countryside scene with sunshine and meadows and convincingly damp grass, and a peaceful, natural beauty, and Toreth’s first real question is about how the sim can be used for something not quite so wonderous and content and beautiful.

“But it can be done?”

“Yes, of course. Don’t worry, you can report back that it would all be extremely useful for yoiur purposes if they could afford it.”

“My purposes?”

“Interrogation.” Flat voice, eyes intent on the console.

“I’m a–“

“Para-investigator. That’s what you told me,”

“No I didn’t.”

“Not quite in so as many words, no. But you told me you rape minds.”

Hmm. So much for Warrick’s cool, ambiguous attitude about the use of the sim for interrogation purposes as demonstrated in his presentation when he was responding to the university-educated idealist. I think it’s crystal clear how he actually feels about that.

“I said ‘I fuck minds,’ I think you’ll find.”

Warrick shrugged. “It’s all in the inflection, really.”

“So what do you think about my inflection?”

The strange half smile again, this time in flattering profile. “I think you probably can’t tell the difference any more.”

Just this: Oh. My. Fucking. God. Seriously. He’s absolutely repulsed by him, yet has had some compelling reason to give him the tour and show him how beautiful things can be in the sim. I got the feeling that it’s almost as though a part of him was wanting to see if Toreth really was— or just did— his job, and then suddenly when he asks about application for the sim to be used to hurt people, up go Warrick’s defenses.

And he’s so slick about it, too.

Admittedly, the first time I read this, I was already feeling a bit defensive for Toreth, and I will acknowledge that was based purely on my own experiences and ability to identify with someone feeling what it’s like to work in a job that other people regard with a level of disgust or suspicion. Warrick’s almost parental protectiveness about his baby being used to quite methodically and potentially inhumanly cause hurt and harm to others wasn’t the first thing to register.

He knew before he invited me here, Toreth thought. He’s known all along and he’s disgusted by the idea of what I do, but he’s still interested. The realisation brought a sharp stab of excitement. He loved to see people wanting to do things they thought they shouldn’t.

*grins* If it hasn’t already been established, Toreth is awesome.

Warrick decides to unbalance him a little bit by changing the scene around them–something else I really love about the dynamic between them. In their beginning of their relationship, especially, there’s a real push-and-pull dynamic where they’re very subtly trying to compete with one another for dominance. But there’s nothing as vulgar and obvious and physical as your usual fight: it’s far quieter and more dignified and headfucky.

Toreth might look like he’s got the advantage given his profession, but Warrick is socially astute and has the sort of backing of a rather brilliant reputation (deserved, when you consider the sim and his smooth-talking)– and presumably an extensive education– behind him. The contrast and yet their similarities (both have control issues, for example, which I’d argue feature heavily in who they are as people) make for some seriously fascinating interaction.

Warrick’s change of scene brings them into a bedroom. Painstakingly, beautifully rendered, too, gorgeously detailled, and incorporating scent into the myriad of senses influenced by the sim’s abilities, and the explanation that brain function can be influenced by the machine. Warrick demonstrates by rendering Toreth completely immobile, and messing with his vision. Scary.

But not scary enough to make Toreth use his safeword which he’d agreed to at the start of the demonstration. Or maybe it’s scary enough to make Toreth dig his heels in and refuse to let Warrick see the whites of his eyes.

“In fact,” Warrick continued, “a lot of truly impressive work is done by the brain. Integrating the signals, smoothing out the imperfections. It’s a remarkably flexible organ. And it works both ways. With practice it’s possible to train the brain to maximally exploit the sim environment.”

“Yeah?”

“Very much so, For example–” As far as he could see, the man didn’t move a centimetre. But suddenly Toreth felt a hand trace a path down his chest from his collarbone to his navel, the smooth palm brushing distincty against naked skin. He looked down sharply, but he was still fully clothed.

“How the hell did you do that?”

“I imagined doing it.” The hand returned and retraced the same path, more slowly. “The convention of moving the physical representation within the sim is purely that– a convention. With practice, intent alone is sufficient. Practice, and a little creative programming.”

You can most likely see where this is going. Warrick uses the technique to demonstrate that he knows exactly what he’s doing– with his imagination— and that yes, he’s bloody good at it. Toreth sits between being stunned and turned on and hellbent on not yielding to Warrick, but with his own experience with this sort of thing completely absent, he can’t exactly return the favour and is at Warrick’s mercy.  .

He had the feeling– no, he was certain– that Warrick wanted him to ask for it. His mind flashed back to the lecture and he thought: Control freak. Oh yes. However, Toreth wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.

Eventually, he decides that he’s getting some and he kind of wanted that, so why not enjoy it? And then Warrick stops it. Without warning, of course, leaving him begging, and Warrick smirking. Demonstrating a particularly diabolical fashion in which the sim could be used for interrogations, collecting data, or just having some fun and screwing with Toreth’s head? (He’s not entirely evil, though, and he allows Toreth climax before giving him his movement back.)

“You’ve go no fucking room to talk,” he said after a moment.

“About what?”

“Not being able to tell the difference between rape and fucking.”

Warrick was still busy over the console. “Oh, I know the difference. That was fucking. If you thought otherwise, you should have stopped it.”

“Stopped it? I couldn’t move!”

Warrick looked around, the smile reaching his eyes this time. “All you had to do was say the word.”

Toreth realised what he meant even before Warrick elaborated. “The code word.”

The code word. He’d completely forgotten, and yet he hadn’t forgotten– not really, not for a minute. Game, set, and fucking match. He lay there, unable, for one of the few times in his life, to think of anything to say.

And then they’re out of the sim, and Warrick is escorting him from the building, their discussion polite and friendly and casual.

“Goodbye.”

That had a very final ring to it. Toreth made it a rule to never do the chasing– or at least for it to never look as if he were– but he couldn’t let this go. He’d comprehensively lost this round, and they both knew it.

Of course it’s not over, and with a thankyou that borders of vicious, Toreth offers to take Dr. Warrick out to dinner… as payback. Expecting him to say no, Warrick grabs the reins and calls his bluff… and agrees.

It’s on, ladies and gentlemen, and it’s already sizzling.

Mind Fuck, Manna Francis; Chapter Three

I’m going to make something clear, if it wasn’t prior to this: I like Toreth. I get where he’s coming from a lot of the time—and not just when he’s being a BAMF, either—and I love seeing his little intricacies when he’s just going about his business. Like me, he people-watches.

And his people-watching makes it easier for the narrative to give the reader an idea of what’s happening in his world. Like, well, now.

He’s at a lecture, watching the head of a small—but successful company discuss their product and its application in the real world. While many of the attendees seem to be computer people—or other corporate people—Toreth recognises a few of “his own” amongst the audience. (Even that was something that amused me: I don’t know how true it is for other professions, but I can generally pick people in my line of work when I’m out and about.)

Toreth’s reasons for being there aren’t quite the standard “work sent me as a representative,” (OMFG; work-related conferences…) rather it seems that he has interest—and initiative in the idea of a machine that might somehow make his job—or an aspect of it, at least—redundant. Not that he believes that, but still.

The company is Simtech, the product is the Sim. An impressive virtual reality machine designed to replicate places, smells, sounds, feelings, sensation and everything else that a user would think of as reality. My first thought, when I heard about it was, “Where would I want to go?” When I realised that it was a day in my life which was more than a decade ago now, I started considering how seductive a fake reality could be… and how while that would be insanely fucking awesome, it could have some serious social problems in the longterm.

Toreth isn’t at the presentation because of that, though: his consideration isn’t about how the Sim could replicate fantasy, but rather how it could convince his, er, subjects, into compliance. While for him there’s a very unlikely but still imaginable threat of his job being turned over to a machine, there’s also the somewhat horrifying idea of what virtual reality could be convincing a subject of. Ever had one of those nightmares where someone is hurting someone you care about—or forcing you to? Ever had one of those nightmares where you can’t stop something? What about the ones where you feel suspended forever with some hideous reality which was so believable that you wake up and it takes a strong coffee and a walk around the house to realise that yes, you still have a house, and no, no one’s kidnapped your children.

Then come ideas about suggestability in an interview or interrogation process. Imagine having virtual reality to add to your toolbox if you’re doing the questioning. Scared yet?

And this is where we meet Dr. Keir Warrick.

We don’t get a full descriptive blast of the man immediately: initially he’s at a distance and is indistinguishable dark hair and a smart suit, the next thing grabbing Toreth’s attention being his voice:

Good voice, Toreth thought. Overarticulates. Sign of a control freak.

Nicely spotted, Toreth.

He smiled. He enjoyed control freaks—it gave him something to take away.

And therein lies the challenge and the initial interest. It’s not that Warrick is pretty or intensely staring across a room or that he’s loaded or that he makes him feel like a natural what-the-fuck-ever—it’s that he’s a control freak and a challenge and he’s involved with something somewhat interesting. (Or that somewhere, deep down, what he does is seen on some subconscious level by Toreth as a threat which needs to be studied and neutralised.)

A new voice attracted Toreth’s attention. “Are you aware of the recent review in the Journal of Re-education Research which discusses the potential applications of simulation in the field of psychoprogramming?”

Toreth’s eyes narrowed. Mentioning a restricted-circulation journal in public wasn’t a clever move. He looked around for the speaker. There. A university type, earnest and obviously dangerously idealistic.

God. Combine the little that we know about Psychoprogramming (when even people trying to access using the procedure on their detainees and subjects are calling it “mind fuck” you know it’s pretty bad) and now this, and Mr. Idealistic Bright-Eyed-Bushy-Tailed-Save-the-World type is poking a wasp’s nest, isn’t he? Especially when it’s mentioned that he’s referred to a classified publication: the previous chapter referred to an industry-specific newspaper being contraband in the workplace…. But this sort of stuff? I can imagine the type of guy mentioning it, too: someone who wants to show how bright he is and how switched on and aware he is, someone possibly hoping for a bit of a debate to demonstrate how smart he is in front of an audience.

On that note, too: there probably is a journal like that out there. Not long ago, there was an FBI report released in a we-hardly-ever-do-this-but-here’s-a-one-off in regards to, and I quote—the science of interrogation. (I suppose “art” has an almost cartoon bad guy evil flair to it. Science makes it sound more serious and professional.)

The man continued, with the delightful addition of the academic’s touch of distancing himself from a dangerous opinion. “I have heard it described as potentially the most effective tool of oppression since memory blocking.” Toreth upgraded his assessment from “idealistic” to “death wish.” He had far better things to do than report the man, but even in the sheltered university environment there were doubtless others with both the time and the inclination.

Warrick responds diplomatically, though later we learn his true feelings about the situation of the world around them and about what goes on at I&I.

He sounded disapproving, although Toreth couldn’t tell whether  of the question or the questioner. “I am aware of the paper referred to. All I can say is that it is not an area SimTech plans to exploit, but I have no more power over how the technology may be used in the more distant future than I do over the opinions of the questioner’s acquaintances.”

And here, we learn a bit more about the relationship between the Administration and the private corporations who are still very much bound by—and regulated by—and utilised by—the Administration:

The Administration had the power to compel the licensing of new developments to the appropriate departments—the balancing factor was that the corporates as a block had the political clout to ensure that the Administration provided substantial compensation. In this case, Toreth could think of half a dozen highly useful applications without even trying; the interdepartmental fighting over budgets would be spectacular.

I… think I like this relationship. It seems a bit healthier than big business paying off politicians and getting to do what they want. Yeah, the Administration might be oppressive and totalitarian and paranoid, but it beats the idea of political parties being owned by big business and doing their bidding and making people believe what they want them to, from my point of view. *shrugs*

The talk about ethics and the Sim continues, and Warrick wraps things up like a boss. Toreth still hangs around, though.

And then he starts talking to him. And this is where we get a closer look at Warrick:

The man turned his head. Impassive dark eyes looked at him out of a face dominated by high cheekbones, too much nose, and the most beautiful mouth Toreth had ever seen on a man.

Light is on, trap is set, ladies and gentlemen.

And so, they start talking. Deciding not to reveal where he’s from—it seems that most of the rest of the world in their time are just as uncomfortable about the idea of a governmental interrogation department as ours are—Toreth smoothly uses a fake name, not bothering to mention where he’s from.

“You have an interest in computer sim technology then. What business are you in?”

“Not business, Doctor. Government.” Toreth gave the man a smile of his own.

“Ah. Are you hoping to license from us, Mr. Toth? If you are, I’m afraid you’ll have to make an official approach to SimTech. Or are you simply a civil servant out on a career development activity during his lunch hour?”

“I’m neither. Just interested in the topic, that’s all.”

“People are generally interested for a reason.”

“Of course. It has a bearing on what I do for a living. I fuck minds,” Toreth said pleasantly.

I love this. I love this exchange so so much that it makes me want to squee. We get so much about both of them here; while it looks like it’s more about Toreth revealing things—Warrick is demonstrating that he’s pretty damned shrewd when it comes to getting answers out of people when they don’t want to give them. He’s just doing it with a corporate-professional smoothness, in the same way that he handled the idealist’s questions during the presentation.

“I see.” Warrick took a sip of his drink, his expression calculating.

“Neurosurgeon? No. You didn’t introduce yourself as Dr. Toth. Socioanalyst, perhaps, if you were more…” He thought for a moment, his fascinating smile flickering and dying again. “Arrogant,” he said, finally.

Toreth’s smile grew. Lack of arrogance wasn’t something he’d been accused of before.

Warrick looked Toreth up and down, obviously appraising him with care. “Para-investigator, maybe,” Warrick said.

Hehehe. Awesome.

Toreth laughed, delighted. “Not even close. I study brain biochemistry at the Pharmacology Division of the Department of Medicine. I saw the announcement of your lecture and decided to attend.” Toreth leaned closer, glad he’d put in a little research before he came to the seminar. “I read your paper on preliminary computer sim in Neuromanipulation some years ago. Groundbreaking work, Doctor.”

Warrick tilted his head a fraction, considering. “That journal was not circulated to the general public.”

“No,” said Toreth, giving him a just-enough-teeth smile. “It wasn’t.”

“I see. You fuck minds,” Warrick said evenly. He put his glass down on the buffet.

And this is the point where Toreth decides that he’s going to get down with the guy. And this is the bit where I go, “Yanno, even this far into things, it’s still a better love story than Twilight AND 50 Shades.” Not to mention a hell of a lot hotter.

And when someone else rocks up to talk to Warrick, Toreth starts planning things, getting in contact with Sara, and asking her to find him a room where his fake name would take a corporate.

I love that Sara knows exactly what he’s up to, too, by the way. And that they have this down to a fine art. Sara suggests a hotel, finds a room, gets it though the department’s expenses, gives Toreth a moment to confirm with Warrick, and then books the room when confirmation is confirmed.

Who else wants a Sara in their life?

Before the date, he does a little background research into Dr. Warrick; re-reading about his basic stats on paper make me smile; it’s old nostalgic stuff realising that the names of his parents and siblings will have importance down the track, and that Toreth hasn’t even realised it at this stage.

And then he decides to read over his clearance file. It’s a bit more confidential and creepy than doing a Google search or looking someone up on FaceBook, but hey (does anyone think Warrick would have his settings on Public, anyway?)

Just at the end, we get a somewhat ominous—though intriguing—close. Warrick starts doing a little research of his own. He’s realised that he was talking to a fake identity… though the outer package was quite attractive, and he wants to know just what was going on. He’s narrowed it down somewhat, deciding Toreth is

[…]an ethically challenged Administration minion who had nothing better to do with his afternoon than sniff out new ways of hurting people. And hand out his hotel number to strangers.

And yet he can’t let it go. He realises he’s found someone who plays games and who’s been playing one with him. And he wants to see him again.

And all of this makes me one happy little person.

Mind Fuck, Manna Francis; Chapter Two

I feel bitchy doing this here, but can I say this much? GOD IT IS REFRESHING TO READ THIS AFTER 50 SHADES. There. I’m done. Shaking it out.

We start to learn a bit more about both the world Toreth exists in and his role within it. While no specific year has been given at all through the series, we can be made aware that it’s some time in the distant future. After all, Toreth had been stationed to work on Mars. And unless there’s something a few governments had skillfully hidden from most of the population, we’re not there yet.

Before his secondment to the Mars colony, Toreth hadn’t truly appreciated how good his life had been. To begin with, despite the fact that someone had felt the need to create a senior para-investigator post there, Mars base had no crime to speak of, certainly not the political crimes that interested I&I. Six months of investigating petty anti-Administration comments, on a strictly dry base, amid perpetual safety drills and in the company of the dullest people he had ever met, had taught him to appreciate Earth. 

Um, E. L. James, take notice, please: this is how we show, not tell. That little paragraph has said more than PAGES of 50 Shades did. And I don’t yet hate any of the characters, something I’m not meant to do– and something I was initially surprised about given the blurb’s rather ominous description of Toreth.

There’s a brief history of the organisation Toreth works for: I&I (Investigation and Interrogation) within the London branch of the European Administration. It appears there has been some shifting about of the organisation due to events which necessitated a great reorganisation (though this isn’t touched upon greatly). It’s a big, white, largely underground govi building with a pleasant little courtyard out the front and a statue of blindfold justice.

What I’m loving already is how believable ALL of this is. Ever worked for a government organisation? I suspect Manna Francis either has, or she’s been closely involved with someone who has. And it was descriptions like this which made me fall in love with the series: the confidence in the writing and the understanding of the little details of the world… which doesn’t actually exist. But could. Even the architecture– especially the detention facility– sounds like accurate description of what these sorts of places look like.

Francis avoids a whole heap of really fucking annoying sci-fi tropes, too. She makes everything human and… not quite mundane, but about as exciting as regular life is for the audience. Too often sci-fi writers like presenting things as oh-so-*SPECIAL* and exotic, and it creates distance for the reader who hasn’t experienced it, AND it speaks volumes to me about the author’s opinion of him or herself or his or her fantasies. And, great, you know, you want to fly a really cool spaceship and save the world, but unless you write it well or otherwise make it interesting, it’s no better than fanfiction someone’s written with a self-insert who is Harry Potter’s supah-sexeh girlfriend (who Draco Malfoy is secretly in love with and who has more magic powers than Dumbledore and Grindelwald combined).

And, fine, write that if it floats your boat. Fantasies are fun. But just don’t expect me to pay good money for that stuff and be as excited about it as you are.

We get a slight glimpse into the world of justice under the Administration. I&I houses a detention facility, where suspects are interrogated, but it’s not really a prison: Justice deals with that aspect of their processing. I&I is where the investigation happens, where the interrogations happen, and where all the paperwork happens. And oh, you’ll get to hear about that later on, too.

Handling the paperwork Toreth’s activities produce is his administrative assistant, Sara. I’ll admit, I was prepared to kind of ignore Sara the first time I read the book because of past experiences. I tend to be a little bit critical of how female characters are presented anyway, but when they’re written by women who write fanfic (as Manna Francis has done) and there is a romance aspect of the fiction, they tend to be:

1.   Competitive, evil bitches who want to destroy all that is good and holy in the world including the Two Wuvv that is the focal point of the story. This isn’t limited to heterosexual romance, either: there are leagues of slashfic writers (funnily enough, most of whom, apparently, are heterosexual women themselves) who hate on the het girl but feel the need to include her to cause conflict or whathaveyou.
2.    Horrible self-inserts. Or wannabe self-inserts. Or self-inserts who win the internets, save the world and get showered with cookies and kittens and eternal adoration from everyone because the writer just really, really, wants to be loved. Bleh.
3.    Irritating, gushy sidekicks.
4.    Expendable red-shirts, who are there to serve a purpose and who got made female “just coz.”

And when they’re written by guys, they’re generally just some sidekick, useful, or something for the hero to stick his dick in. This is one reason why “romance” fails to appeal to me. And why those dudes-doing-actiony-spy-stuff books don’t usually win me over, too.

Anyway, Sara. I fucking adore Sara. And I love the exchanges between her and Toreth.

Sara spread her arms. “What do you think?”

Trick question, because she was wearing the standard admin uniform of dark grey, with the I&I logo on the shoulder. He scanned her, letting his professional eye for detail pull out an answer. New hairstyle was a good first guess, but her black, glossy hair– from the same part-Southeast Asian genes that supplied her dark eyes and the golden cast to her skin– was cut in a shoulder-length bob. No change from the last few weeks. That left one other thing to try, so he checked her hands. The new ring stood out at once amongst the collection that adorned her slim hands. The three diamonds were large enough to classify it as an offensive weapon. Third finger of her left hand, too.

“You’re engaged again?”

Her face darkened. “I wish you wouldn’t say again like that.”

“Why not? We both know that finger’s just a jumping-off point for one of the others. Have I met this new contributor to the pension plan?”

“No, I don’t think s. He’s…” Rings sparkling, she sketched a vague suggestion of height. “It was a bit of a surprise, really. I’ve not known him that long. And the stones are synthetic. But it’s a nice one, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, lovely.” Toreth gave him a month, at the most. “Anything for me?”

“Your lucky morning, too– not a thing.”

I love the dynamic between them, I love the dialogue, and I love the show-not-tell aspect of Francis’ writing. And I love the fact that while she gives– particularly in the first book– world-building necessary details, she doesn’t linger on anything. Toreth goes about his morning, running through paperwork resulting from his investigations, and then we get to meet another one of the I&I workers: Chevril.

Chevril always makes me smile. Everyone’s worked with a Chevril or two before (or perhaps they are the workplace Chevril): they don’t have a great deal going for them, they aren’t particularly pleased with their lot in life, and they seems ritualistically stuck doing the same thing day in and out. But they’re not bad people, at the end of the day. Chevril’s sort of ineffective and not really seen as a mover and a shaker around the office: he’s your regular bloke who does a day’s work and goes home at the end of it and it’s what he’ll do til retirement. He’s been in the system long enough to be a bit cynical about it and a bit lazy, though at the moment, he’s recently promoted to a senior role and he’s pleased enough to visit Toreth and parade a little bit.

He looks out Toreth’s window into the enclosed courtyard below, noticing the palm trees.

“They put them in on Friday. Didn’t you notice all the plants up here, too?”

“Huh. Sprucing up the place for Secretary Turnbull’s visit. I bet they take ’em away the minute she’s gone.”

“Very probably. If there’s a leaf left in the building by then.”

“Are they walking already?” Chevril snorted. “Bunch of bloody thieves there are in this place.”

Another great bit of dialogue and one which had me grinning. It’s little human details like this which breathe life into a story, and, well, it’s true. Government workplaces are meant to offer stability and room for promotion, but they don’t really give away stuff to their employees like private enterprises do. (Seriously, I’ve heard of my friends getting amazing Christmas parties, awesome catering at corporate events, Christmas hampers with wines and hams and stuff in them, and all sorts of really amazing stuff.) I believe it’s because it would be unfair to use taxpayer money to give benefits and bonuses to staff. The resulting staff will steal anything that isn’t nailed down. The idea of people pinching pot plants– which were only brought in anyway to make things look pretty for a political figure– absolutely cracked me up because it’s the sort of thing that actually happens. 

 

If they filmed this, they’d have to have this mentioned, and then show various offices and desks with tropical pot plants on them in varying stages of life and death. (Things aren’t considered gifts or benefits if they remain on the premises!)

Over Chevril’s visit we learn a little more about the system: senior para-investigators get a team who work under them (and later we learn there is a “casual pool” of staff awaiting assignment when more team members are needed and funding is available for them). And while the system can be brutal, there are still various avenues which need to be gone through involving investigation and interrogation.

Chevril is sorting out (or not sorting out, as Toreth mentions) paperwork for an “m-f.” That’s the other thing you get used to: workplace lingo.

(And then, if you’re like me, you’ll go and watch Blake’s 7 and be stunned and thinking things like, “Did this person have appropriate clearance or a waiver sufficiently high enough to do that?” or “That’s what they mean by M-F. Okay.”)

Toreth and Chevril run through some of this.

Chevril pulled a hand screen from his back pocket, expanded the screen, and laid it flat on Toreth’s desk. He paged disconsolately through the half-completed form. “I mean, just look at this. ‘Estimated Value of Information Expected.’ I don’t bloody know, do I? If I knew what information she had, I wouldn’t need to interrogate her, would I?”

Toreth sighed. “Look, put down ‘high strategic value.’ Works for me.”

“I’ve tried that. Mindfuck bounced the last one as insufficiently detailed.”

“Well, maybe you should call them Psychoprogramming. It puts them in a better mood[…]”

Again, showing, not telling, and giving the reader an idea of just *how* brutal the system is, and also, that there are restrictions on it from the other end. We’re not just talking basic interrogation here, we’re talking higher-end stuff even the staff refer to as “mindfuck.” (Another reference, of course, and as someone said, it’s a theme carried right through the book.) But as seniors higher than Toreth– and Toreth himself– admit, it’s not going to put him– or any of the others working in interrogation– out of work. When it fucks up, it’s disastrous. And it isn’t infallible. And it’s expensive. And it needs to be done by trained professionals. And it requires a lot of paperwork for authorisation.

Its established that both Toreth and Chevril are there for life– Chevril complains but either lacks the motivation or the interest in doing anything else– or the benefits of working for the Administration outweigh being elsewhere– and while it’s not touched upon too much at this point, it’s a sure bet that Toreth is content in his job. Despite the paperwork, the sometimes drudgery and the persistent rumours that he’s screwing his (heterosexual, not that anyone gossiping cares about a detail like that) manager to get all the good cases.

I’ll admit, too: the first time I read the series, I overlooked a lot of this sort of stuff. I’d mistakenly bought the book believing I’d get more in the way of dystopian bleakness and action and homoeroticism. I wasn’t expecting something as polished and as normal. I’ve also tended to read the series at weird hours and on very little sleep. And I wasn’t really expecting much more than a C-grade futuristic romp with lots of angst and violent gay sex. I really, really didn’t expect this.

I’m so glad I was wrong.

Mind Fuck (Book One in the Administration Series), Manna Francis: Chapter One

A first chapter should introduce the story, give the reader an idea of what they’re dealing with, all that sort of stuff, IMHO. No punches are pulled here; we see Para-investigator Val Toreth at work in his department in the governmental offices of the European Administration.

He works in the innocuous-at-a-glance I&I department. Which stands for investigations (duh) and, um, interrogations. Toreth, as he prefers to be called (though nothing surprises him and he’s been called just about everything else in his line of work) is dealing with a suspect and requiring some answers. And he’s legally sanctioned to do particular things to the suspect in order to get them.
Nothing personal, of course, that’s just his job.

And, okay, I know he’s not meant to be a sympathetic character. I know I’m probably meant to be horrified by what he’s doing. But watching him at work –as you do for the first chapter– you can’t help but note a couple of things: firstly, Toreth isn’t brutal about what he’s doing. He lays what looks like his hand on the table, he’s pleasant and polite, and he gives the suspect the opportunity to cooperate with him. We’re not talking cops with phonebooks and exotic torture methods. Toreth’s not a bad guy, not really: he seems too efficient and dignified to resort to low-life thuggery (though my first thought upon reading this scene was “Okay, he mightn’t be abusive and creepy, though what about other people in his rank?”).

The second thought I had was, “Nice place to start a book called Mind Fuck. Because this is precisely how Toreth gets his interrogation to work, his suspect to cooperate, and the information he wants. Yes, it’s classic, Hans Scharff, honey-not-vinegar type stuff: and it works.

There is so much I love about the series, and to be honest, the first time I read the book, I didn’t pay much attention to the opening scenes. But this is a really good portrait of Toreth in his professional environment (which is where he seems to spend most of his time and where he comes across as being the most comfortable from my view). He’s been there for awhile, he knows his job, he seems to be challenged by it and interested in it, and he has an understanding of everyone in his workplace.

Down the track, we learn a bit more about them and the office politics and the feelings those in I&I inspire in others.

But for now, we have Toreth, work completed, information gained, walking out and whistling off-key, feeling quite pleased with himself.