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Visual effects / Ch. 13:New beginnings

VISUAL EFFECTS / CH. 13:NEW BEGINNINGS

SATURDAY 18TH JUNE 2270

Evangeline had chosen to be practical. She didn't need to wear a costly dress: it wasn't part of her culture as a third generation Martian. Such extravagance was wasteful, and conspicuous waste offended her. Instead, she wore a simple plain white dress, which fashion correspondents would have called peasant style. She wasn't ashamed of that designation, after all, to some definitions, that was exactly what she was, despite having submitted her Master's thesis in history. Her dark hair, which reached to the middle of her back, she wore loose but adorned with a crown of something more valuable to her than gold or silver: freshly picked flowers.

Alice's dress wasn't plain, but she'd decided against adding ornamentation to her fair, partly-dyed shoulder length hair with it's centimeter wide purple 'frame' around her face. In other words, she and Evangeline looked nothing like one another.

Simon and Chris, both wearing suits, were more similar. However, Chris's suit didn't quite fit around his chest any more; he'd filled out in the years since he'd worn it for university interviews. But that didn't matter; he hadn't been planning to wear it fully buttoned anyway given how warm the day was turning out to be.

Neither couple had gone to the trouble of arranging such extras as bridesmaids, or ushers and people were left free to decide where they wanted to sit. They'd also decided that ring-bearers and best-men were needless. All went relatively smoothly, except that as the two brides entered, side by side, they realised that Simon and Chris were not on the same sides as their respective brides.

Since the men's families had taken up positions based on where their son or brother had been waiting, Alice and Evangeline simply crossed as they arrived at the altar.

The rest of the service went mostly to schedule. The exception was that soon after the vows had been taken, Bob and Minerva's three year old daughter demanded a cuddle from her father, resisted all efforts to move her from her chosen place and then fell asleep with her head on her father's shoulder during the sermon. It wasn't the first time that had happened, so most of the congregation weren't surprised. Bob, somewhat embarrassed, pointed out that there was an illustration there somewhere about being determined to find our rest in our heavenly father.

He also spoke about how he was making an exception for these four young people, given their imminent journey, and was not recommending others start their married lives in such a rush, and how though it might seem romantic, it was also going to be tough for them in the future, as they worked out their differences at the same time as they got used to all the other changes in their lives.

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NOTE FROM ALICE SLIPPED TO ED AT THE WEDDING.

Dear Ed,

It has been pointed out that the information in my little insurance policy could cause even more damage than I thought it might. I really hope you don't have to use it, but if you do, please do so carefully, so people think in terms of management/ownership change, not being destructive. Other functions such as waste processing and comet delivery must continue unmodified.

Alice.

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10 A.M. MONDAY 20TH JUNE, INTERNATIONAL NEWS.

“Mr Ed Wentfort?” It was a voice only call on his private number. The calling number was withheld. Ed guessed it was a man in his late forties.

“Speaking.”

“You have a reporter booked on her way to Mars.”

“To whom am I speaking?” Ed asked.

“I'm ringing from the Mars Corporation.”

“As in you're in the foyer, or you're officially representing the corporation in a named capacity?”

“I'm unofficially representing the corporation in an unnamed capacity.”

“That is rather hard to verify.”

“It is intended to be.”

Ed didn't comment.

“Mr Wentfort, your investigative journalist Alice Findhorn is going to Mars the day after tomorrow, taking up a post at the Mars University. She has been making Mars-related enquiries. I would just like you to know that we know this too.”

“Are you intending this to be taken as a threat?”

“Oh no, Mr Wentfort, I'm just ensuring channels are open, as it were. If there is anything at all we can do to help with her enquiries, please do encourage her to get in contact. The press office is of course the expected channel, but the legal department also stands ready to answer relevant queries. And after all, normally reporters do like to be accredited by the de-facto government in the locations they are reporting from. Unless they're being subversive, of course.”

“I'm sorry, I fail to understand your reference to 'subversive'. I assure you that in no way are any of my reporters involved in any attempt to overthrow any recognised authority.” Not that in his book Mars Corp counted as such.

“Well, that's most encouraging. What is Ms Findhorn doing then?”

“Not that it's any of your business, but she has become aware how little people here on Earth really know about life on Mars, and is going to write a series of articles about life on Mars from the point of view of colonists.”

“That's been done before.”

“As you're no doubt aware, she's not taking the tourist approach, so no it hasn't been done before.”

“And that's all she's going to do?”

“No. As you pointed out, she's also going to lecture at the Mars university.”

“I see. It is very magnanimous of you to pay for her to help teach at the university, of course, but I'm amazed that you think her articles will be of such importance to your news organisation that you plough so much investment into them.”

“There are other commercial reasons for her presence there, I assure you.”

“Oh yes?”

“I'm not in the practice of discussing confidential business plans with unnamed unverified callers.”

“Please hold,” the man said and the line went dead for a while, then the voice continued. “I apologise for the earlier secrecy. I am now authorised to inform you that my name is William Maugh, and I'm calling from the legal department of the Mars Corporation. We take the reputation of the corporation very, very seriously, Mr Wentfort, and our code of conduct is extremely strict. Your investigative reporter has a reputation for presenting well argued reports that root out corruption at the heart of the investigated organisation. In that we applaud her efforts. But she also has a reputation for ruining reputations and leaving organisations in tatters, and we would certainly not like that to happen. If she is investigating corruption within the corporation, please do tell us. I assure you that our internal procedures for dealing with it are entirely rigorous, and if there is some accusation that there is a loophole or they are not being properly applied at all levels then we would be more than happy to address such issues with the utmost vigour.”

“Thank you for your candour, Mr Maugh,” Ed said as he chose his next words carefully. “As you may be aware, Ms Findhorn has recently begun to think about the trust placed in reporters and the damage that some of her reporting has done to certain innocent individuals. She has publicly apologised for that breach of trust, and together we thought that perhaps it would not be a bad time to widen her brief, to investigate some other mysteries which are not a case of misuse of funds, abuse of power, and such like. As far as I'm aware, Ms Findhorn is not investigating any individual within Mars Corporation, but is genuinely concerned that there is so little knowledge on Earth about life on Mars. We've also asked her to investigate why no one keeps up a subscription to our news service from there for more than a year, to try to rectify that situation, and pass on news from the Mars colony.”

“You're putting her out to pasture?” William Maugh was delighted.

“Not at all. We're expanding her remit and giving her a number of other avenues to apply her intellect,” Ed said.

“Well, I must say, I'm relieved to hear that. Thank you so much for that news, Mr Wendfort.”

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“Alice, Ed here. Sorry for interrupting your all-too-brief honeymoon.”

“Not a problem, Ed. I presume you have good reason.”

“I think so, anyway. I've just had a Mr William Maugh from Mars Corp's legal department on the line. They know you're on your way there and were rather concerned you might be about to blight the impeccable reputation of their employees, drag the corporation's name in the mud and leave the corporation in tatters. So, if you do happen to know of any corrupt officials, please pass details on to the press office or legal department, so they can stamp out corruption themselves. I told him you were solving other mysteries these days, like how come we don't have subscribers from Mars, and that we were expanding your remit and allowing you to apply your intellect to other avenues.”

“How did he take that?”

“He seemed distinctly relieved,” Ed replied. “Oh, earlier on he questioned why you hadn't sought to get your status as a journalist accredited by Mars Corp as the 'de-facto government of Mars', and suggested the motive might be being subversive. I assured him that none of my reporters were undermining any duly recognised authorities.”

“Of course not,” Alice said. “I honestly hadn't thought I might need to register.”

“Well, I took the liberty of looking it up, and to me it looks optional, anyway. It talks about you making the most of your brief time on Mars, the Corporation's Mars office arranging interviewees for you, and so on. In other words it assumes that reporters are on a tourist trip.”

“And he didn't insist I register?”

“No. But perhaps you ought to show willing and write the press office a note asking if it would be applicable to you, what quid pro quo they might expect, for their assistance, and so on.”

“Of course. What was his name again?” Alice asked.

“William Maugh.”

“Thanks Ed, I'll do that. I don't want to upset Mr Maugh.”

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NOTE TO MARS CORP PRESS OFFICE, 11 A.M. MONDAY, 20TH JUNE

Dear press office,

It was suggested to my editor that I might seek accreditation as a journalist from the corporation. I believe the person doing the suggestion was named William Maugh, from your legal department. Is that correct? Have I spelt his name correctly? My editor failed to note his exact role, could you let me know it, just in case I need to correspond with him?

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My editor and I see the various arguments given on your site in favour of accreditation as only relevant for short term visitors, and understand that accreditation is an optional scheme. Are there other advantages more relevant to a long-term resident such as I will be? I presume there is a reciprocal quid pro quo, or fee structure, but I see no mention of it. I understand that a lot of news reporting and analysis on Mars is done by individual blog writers, not linked to a recognisable news channel. Does the press office have any formal relationship with such people? Alice Findhorn (formally now Findhorn-Bunting)

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REPLY FROM MARS CORP PRESS OFFICE, 1.01 P.M. MONDAY, 20TH JUNE

Dear Ms Findhorn,

Thank you for your enquiry. We know about publication deadlines and try to respond to press enquiries within one hour. Unfortunately our press office is very busy at the moment and your reply has been on hold far too long. This automatic response includes the current draft reply to your enquiry. Please accept our apologies if the agent responsible has left themselves notes about what they need to check up on. We hope that what information it contains is relevant and goes some way to answering your query.

CURRENT DRAFT

Dear Ms Findhorn,

I can confirm that Mr William Maugh works in our legal department. There is a contract for journalists seeking accreditation, which I attach in hope that it will answer your questions regarding the process and usefulness of it in your case.

CUT EVERYTHING BELOW THIS.

Beta test of A.I. for press queries, not approved for external use. Thank you for your enquiry about the role of William Maugh. It is not Mars Corp policy to release job titles for employees. His role is to ensure that the legal department fulfils its remit of ensuring that contracts and policies are complied with, and that corporation employees operate within applicable laws.

EDIT THIS:

Thank you for your enquiry about spelling. The correct title is:

Mr William Maugh, senior manager of Mars Corporation legal department.

I THOUGHT POLICY WAS WE DON'T GIVE TITLES!

Thank you for your enquiry about accreditation. Accreditation is available through the press office for all journalists visiting Mars. Accreditation allows a journalist to operate more efficiently.

EDIT THIS OUT

Thank you for your enquiry about Quid pro quo. Quid pro quo is a latin term meaning that someone receives something in return for something, help for help.

Database scan of relevant data for phrases 'quid pro quo' 'William Maugh' 'accreditation' 'Alice Findhorn' 'spelling':

Accreditation is offered for free. Press office manual.

Mr Maugh receives a salary of 475000 p.a. in exchange for his work. /Employment contract/

HOW MUCH!? WHY DID A.I. THINK THIS RELEVANT??

Alice Findhorn is an investigative journalist who specialises in exposing corporate corruption. Any enquiries should receive special handling.

Seek advice before replying. Press office, specific journalist notes

Accreditation helps journalists talk to the right people. Press office manual

Please make sure that all journalists go through accreditation processes. This helps us keep track of them and makes sure they don't talk to any Wannas. Internal memo.

Journalists receive accreditation on signing of relevant contract. /Press office manual/

We attach our standard press-pack.

We attach contract for accreditation.

We attach our corporate structure.

We attach our employee pay scale. WHO PROGRAMMED THIS CRAZY AI??

Beta test of A.I. for press queries, not approved for external use. END DRAFT

We hope you have found this draft-reply service useful in meeting your deadlines. Hopefully the press relations officer dealing with your enquiry will be in touch with the full response soon.

Mars Corp Press Office.

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Alice forwarded the message that had just had her and Simon laughing. “Hi, Ed! We just thought you'd like to know, there's just been a breach of policy at Mars Corp. I'm attaching the reply I got; it's a lovely example of an automated system seriously biting someone. I wonder if with some suitable editing to make it publishable, it might be a good candidate for the computer glitches column. Hopefully the only person who loses their job is the person who decided to send out draft messages on a fixed deadline. A.”

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1.10 P.M. MONDAY, 20TH JUNE

“Hello, Alice Findhorn?” It was a woman's voice.

“Speaking.”

“I'm ringing about your enquiry to the Mars Corp press office.”

“Can I ask who I'm speaking to?” Alice interrupted.

“Emelia Trevors, junior press relations officer,” Alice guessed she was about twenty.

“And you have had an embarrassing computer error.”

“Pardon?”

“Sorry, never mind, I misjudged the purpose of your call, go ahead.”

“Well, in answer to your queries, yes, you spelled Mr Maugh's name correctly, and he does indeed work for the legal department. Regarding the accreditation, I admit that I'm at a bit of a loss. As you gathered, we're more set up for short term visitors, who need introductions to people to get the most out of their visit. We're of course happy to provide that service, but with you going as a long term colonist...”

“You're not going to be able to keep me away from people you'd rather I didn't meet? Sorry, let me come clean; your computer decided it had a draft reply to me and two hours had passed. I do agree with whoever it was that asked who'd programmed the A.I.”

“Ah, urm, that was me. Asking the question I mean.”

“Do I presume you didn't programme the automatic release of drafts containing things saying things like 'cut everything below here' without cutting them.”

“Correct. And it sent the attachments the A.I. had attached?” Alice heard Emelia's fear.

“Yes. For your peace of mind, I'm entirely convinced that the whole lot comes under the category of an unpublishable accidental release of private data. But perhaps our technology correspondent might be in touch about using a sanitised version.”

“I think I might need to resign.”

“I think that would be most unfair, Emelia. I assume that you were not responsible for the delay?”

“No.”

“Did you even know about the automatic release?”

“I was briefed on it, during my introduction.”

“Did the person who delayed you know about it?”

“Yes.”

“And knew the AI generated such silly replies?”

“Yes.”

“So, not your responsibility, and no serious harm done.”

“No? I could have just deleted the rubbish myself.”

“Why didn't you?”

“Because they want to train the A.I.”

“Your superiors?”

“Yes.”

“So, you were following instructions?”

“Yes.”

“So, it's hardly your fault is it?”

“But it still all went wrong from my terminal,” Emelia said, still scared.

“Your next call should be to Ed Wentfort, my editor. Ask him to confirm that the accidental release of internal, private data is unpublishable. You should then inform your supervisor that it has happened and the steps you've taken to protect the good name of the corporation.”

“You think it has a good name?”

“Emelia, if they sack you, then that doesn't speak well of your superiors, and our treatment of this case might not be favourable to the corporation. If we all just laugh at how badly a computer can turn a simple enquiry into a disaster, then there's no need for the corporation's name to ever appear in connection to the cautionary tale.”

“You're suggesting that I blackmail my employer?”

“Not at all. I'm suggesting that your superiors don't want bad publicity.”

“Almost a million people's futures at stake, and counting.”

“Including mine, so, back to my enquiry. From the perspective of your superiors, I presume you're not speaking on your own authority, they would like me to sign an accreditation contract, but they don't really have very much to offer me, correct?”

“Urm, yes Maam.”

“And hidden away in the small print, the accreditation contract states, basically, that I don't mind if your A.I.s invade my privacy and read my mail, so that someone can correct any misunderstandings I might have reached.”

“Urm,” Emelia said.

“And of course, I've just seen how discreet your A.I.s can be, so no thanks. I'm not going to sign such an agreement. Nor will I agree to keep silent on any matter of illegal or corrupt behaviour, or fail to speak up if I see people's rights being trampled or a better way that things could be done. Those are not covered in the contract so far, but I thought I'd just point them out.

I will however undertake to treat the Martian culture with respect, not deliberately publish anything that will lead to a breach of the peace, or blame Mars Corp for matters beyond it's control, which are the other key elements in the accreditation contract, I believe. In other words, Emelia, I'm willing to agree to being a responsible journalist, just as long as Mars Corp and it's agents agree to accord me normal journalistic freedoms, such as protecting my sources, freedom of association and movement and freedom from surveillance.”

“So... you'd sign up to a modified contract?”

“Certainly. Ed Wentworth can put you in contact with our legal department, who, of course, would want to check what Mr Maugh and his subordinates come up with before I sign it.”

“And the services normally offered...”

“Are not especially interesting to me, no. I don't actually expect I'll be interviewing many people until I qualify as a real Martian.”

“Miss Findhorn...” Emelia started asking.

“Mrs, actually as of Saturday, though my married surname is Findhorn-Bunting, so it gets a bit confusing.”

“Oh! Yes, you did write that. Congratulations!”

“Thank you. You were about to ask something?”

“I don't know if this is going to end up normal or not,” Emelia gabbled, “but normally our policy is to pair a press officer to a journalist, so you'd normally talk to me assuming I'm on duty. Would that be acceptable?”

“Certainly. Just don't go resigning.”

“I'll try not to,” Emelia said.

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1.50 PM. WALKING ALONG THE RIDGE.

“Is that the end of phone calls for the day?” Simon asked.

“I certainly hope so,” Alice replied.

“Now, can you tell me why we're stopped here?” Simon asked, looking around at scenery. It wasn't the most attractive part of the ridge, so he was a bit confused.

“Because last time we were here you didn't give sleeping beauty a kiss.”

Alice said, laying back down in roughly the same spot she'd lain before, and closing her eyes.

“Oh!” Simon exclaimed and rectified that. [I love you Mrs Findhorn-Bunting.]

[I should certainly hope so, Dr Findhorn-Bunting.]

Emotional feedback started, and they enjoyed one another's emotions for a while, then Alice's wrist unit buzzed.

[I could turn it off.] Alice offered.

[Probably best not to.]

“Hello?” she responded reluctantly.

“Ms Findhorn, this is William Maugh speaking.”

“Ah, the senior manager of the legal department himself! I presume you are aware of your press office computer systems joining forces to blurt sensitive information to people?”

“Ms Findhorn, to what use are you planning to put that information?”

“None whatsoever, except maybe tease Mars Corp officials.”

“None?”

“Mr Maugh, I'm not interested in how much your salary is. It doesn't seem out of place for someone in your role. Though I can't imagine what you'd possibly do with it all, so I can recommend some charitable causes if you find you yourself burdened by excessive wealth.”

“May I ask what you are interested in?”

“Is this a professional or personal question, Mr Maugh?”

“Your response would be different?”

“Quite possibly, yes. Assuming you'd allow me to establish the veracity of your answer.”

“Personally and professionally, I am concerned with Mars Corp's reputation and continued functioning. I say personally because my sister, against my advice, decided to abandon her career and go to Mars some years ago.”

“And you feel that the continued functioning of Mars Corp is in danger?”

“Ms Findhorn, you have a reputation for discovering information that results in resignations or arrests and damages companies.”

“Thank you for the compliment, Mr Maugh.”

“It wasn't meant to be one, Ms Findhorn.”

“Come, Mr Maugh, would you not find it a compliment to be told that lesser lawyers didn't want to cross swords with you?”

“Point taken. Are you investigating Mars Corp in any way, Ms Findhorn?”

Alice laughed “Mr Maugh, I'm going to Mars, to live there with my husband, and raise my children there, assuming God blesses our marriage. I'd be negligent to not make any enquiries about the corporation.”

“And that is the limit of your enquiries?”

“Mr Maugh, do you honestly expect me to answer that? When your sister went there, didn't you try to find out things and solve any little mysteries you came across?”

“What mysteries, Ms Findhorn, have you come across?”

“Mr Maugh, I believe I have reached the limit of what I can tell you over a communications link. If will tell me your sister's name, and grant me permission to do what I can to verify your account, then perhaps we could have a brief meeting in person before we board.”

[You're planning to check on his thoughts?] Simon asked Alice.

[Yes, I think so, what do you think?]

[I think it'd be good to tell someone in Mars Corp about your dangerous insurance policy. If he's genuine, he'd be in a good person, I think. So, with his permission, yes, do.] Simon said.

“Where you'll answer all my questions?”

“I seriously doubt that, Mr Maugh,” Alice laughed, “especially if you ask about my sources.”

“My sister's name is Eloise Maugh, I expect you can verify her presence on Mars quite easily. Feel free to check however you like.”

“And are you concerned about her in general, Mr Maugh? Or just concerned for her future?”

“Who wouldn't be concerned when his sister has taken a one-way ticket to somewhere you can't breathe the atmosphere?”

“Well, you could presumably afford a ticket home for her.”

“She won't come, she won't listen, and she won't even answer my messages these days.”

“Ah,” Alice said.

Alice checked his thoughts. William Maugh was worried about his sister. She hadn't been in contact for several months, and the last thing she'd sent him had been an extremely angry response to what he'd told her.

“Would you like me to contact her?” Alice asked, continuing to listen in, “I could pass on some message if you like.”

“No! No she'll not thank either of us for that.”

He was worried that she might pass on what he'd written: either to dangerous people or to the press, say someone like Alice. Alice smiled and stopped listening.

“Mr Maugh,” Alice said, “let me encourage you to arrange a meeting on Wednesday, if you can't make it perhaps you could send Emelia Trevors. But right now, my husband and I would like to concentrate on enjoying our honeymoon, if that's all right with you.”

“Perfectly all right, Mrs Findhorn-Bunting.”