WARPING EFFECTS / CH. 10:ASSESSING FACTS.
YVETTE'S SCHOOL, ANCHORAGE, 15TH JAN, 2296, 8.55AM
As soon as the headmaster had had time to take off his coat, Yvette knocked on his door.
“Yes, Yvette?” He'd seen her waiting.
“Excuse me, sir, I've got a letter from a lawyer for the school, and another, on a different subject from the Institute for the Human Mind. They both concern me, the second one concerns some other pupils as well.”
“And you know what's in them?”
“Yes sir. The first one is about a change in my family circumstances, and the second is about a work-placement scheme. Mr Yin is aware of both.”
“A work-placement scheme at the Institute for the Human Mind?”
“Yes, sir.”
“That sounds complicated. Not to mention expensive.”
“The institute is meeting costs from its educational budget, sir. Second interviews happened this morning and I know that three invitations have been offered and I've just heard a fourth is probable. I know who, but work-placement students count as temporary part-time staff of the Institute and so the United Nations reporting ban applies.”
“And so you're not allowed to tell me?”
“Exactly, sir.”
“But it was OK for someone to tell you?”
“Yes, sir, because we're in the same category of temporary staff.”
“I see. And the change of family circumstances?”
“It should all be in the letter, sir. It's a bit painful to retell, but I can probably answer your questions without dissolving in tears.”
Five minutes later he asked, “What do you know of this couple who are planning to adopt you?”
“I know they have a daughter a few months older than me, that they've known my fiancé's family since before he was born, and that she is the owner of the
GemSmith Corporation, which owns things like Emerald Health, and Saphire Industries, that they live in Restoration, and have friends who work at the Institute.”
“Ah, and hence the work placement scheme?”
“Yes, sir. The director of the Institute was very glad to hear of the School's Psyche-counselling elective.”
“You said there had been interviews.”
“Yes sir, we all had interviews on Saturday, and then there were three second interviews this morning.”
“Any you know who has been accepted.”
“Yes sir.”
“But you cannot tell me, their headmaster.”
“That is correct sir. Not even the director could report that information to you, sir. The law is very strict. The accepted students will receive a letter of invitation which they may show the school, and the school may keep a closely guarded copy for their records. And they can tell friends and family about it, or even a reporter, but any passing on of that information is forbidden as a terrorism-related crime.”
“And the rejected students?”
“I believe that reasons for rejection can be passed on, yes, sir, but anonymity was promised. I was surprised; only fifteen of us came to the interviews, and I did talk to everyone to make sure they'd check their messages. I don't know if it was the short notice or the fact that the interviews were performed with a truthsayer.”
“I will inevitably be asked about the short notice and fairness of the arrangements. Can you tell me exactly what happened and when?”
“Early on Saturday morning I was talking to my almost-adoptive parents about what I was studying, and I mentioned the impossible possibility of a study placement. They told me to copy the specifications to the I.H.M's legal advisor, copying the director. They then made some phone-calls. The study placement possibility was a godsend because that sort of visa allows modification to permanent residency, but a tourist visa does not. I had a telephone interview with the institute's legal advisor, and then a telephone-interview with a psych-counsellor at the institute, in the presence of a truthsayer. Urm, that was about ten A.M. While I was being interviewed, the legal advisor checked everything with the Restored Kingdom immigration authorities, and asked if there might be the possibility for a couple more students. The immigration authority issued four visas, one for me, and three with blanks for the names. That was about eleven. While my almost-adoptive parents made the arrangements for some function rooms with the hotel, the director and his wife changed their plans to be available to give interviews, and I wrote to my classmates about the placements, and then followed it up with a call to everyone. A confirmatory message was put up on the I.H.M. site, and I mentioned that if anyone really couldn't make it then other times were possible. At three, there was a brief introductory talk by the director and his wife — who also works there, and then everyone present got roughly quarter of an hour interviews, ordered randomly. There was one immediate acceptance, and three were invited for second interviews for the last two places this morning. On Sunday, we rested.”
“And the director and his wife are now back on their way to Restoration?”
“No, sir. They plan to travel back on Friday, and hope the school is willing to consider being on-site but recovering from jet-lag to be part of the placement. Oh, I assume the letter says, but the placements they're offering are for four to six months.”
“And the institute is meeting all costs?”
“Almost. Not food, toiletries or spending money. Apparently, it's really normal for people our age to work a few hours a week in a shop for spending money. Oh, and we need to agree to do household chores at the families we're staying with.”
“Including you?”
“Urm... I expect so.”
“Medical charges?”
“The institute's insurance policy covers us.”
“I see. Presumably they'll kick the students out for some things?”
“Yes sir. Unethical and immoral behaviour.”
“Meaning what exactly?”
“It wasn't expanded on, sir. But we're not legally adults there, so no life-changing decisions, and parental consent needed for lots of things.”
“Like getting engaged?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And that's what your birth-mother objected to?”
“Urm, roughly speaking, yes. I broke some cultural taboos and told everyone I was in love with him and was holding him to the promise he'd made to marry me some years ago.”
“And what do your almost-adoptive parents think of that?”
“They're certain she over-reacted, and decided I needed loving support, not rejection.”
“And the wedding plans?”
“They advise waiting until after we've both finished university, sir.”
“And you have a letter of invitation, I presume?”
“Yes, sir. On my wrist unit.”
“May I see it?”
“Certainly.”
“And you have no doubts that all this is absolutely genuine?”
“None at all, sir. There's a confirmatory digital signature on the I.H.M site under legal.”
“I will need to confirm all of this, you realise?”
“Yes, sir. I understand that the embassy of the Restored Kingdom ought to be able to confirm the visa code is valid, and that it's been issued to me. Just don't tell them where I'm going for the placement.”
----------------------------------------
ACHORAGE, JEWELERY SHOP. 9.05AM
“Hello. I see you purchase jewelery, does that mean you happen to have a diamond identifier?” Sarah asked.
“What's one of those?” the shop assistant asked.
“A clever little device you put a diamond in which in your case would tell you if you were buying stolen property.”
“Oh. No. We don't handle real gems.”
“Where would I find a reputable valuer?”
“We are a reputable valuer, maam.”
“So what do you do about things with a stone set in them?”
“Rip out the bit of glass and weigh the gold. That's where the money is.”
“And then you give back the glass to the customer?”
“No, we send them all to head office. It's part of an ongoing survey into what's going out of fashion they're doing.”
“And can you identify the difference between a real gem and a fake one hundred percent accurately?”
“I've never had any complaints from head office, maam.”
“Since you're sending them the valuable mistakes, I'm not surprised. Where would I find a valuer of the sort that an insurance company would use for a gem worth at least a month of your wages, and possibly a year? And please don't suggest your head office.”
“I wasn't about to, maam. Jennings and Butler, one block South. But you normally need an appointment.”
“Thank you,” Sarah said.
Victoria and Mick were surprised how easily Sarah found the small entrance with the discrete notice on a plaque.
“It's rather... hidden,” Mick said.
“Exactly the sort of place I want. Big glass windows are for passing customers. This place is for those in the know.” She pressed the intercom.
“Hello, Jennings and Butler. Do you have an appointment?” The intercom distorted his voice, but it sounded like the man was about eighty.
“Hello, my name's Sarah Williams, I'm afraid I don't have an appointment but I'd like an identity scan done on a pair of diamond drop ear-rings. My out-of-practice estimate is very slight inclusions, colour F, and a top quality cut.”
“And you have, ah, concerns about them?”
“Found in the lining of a second-hand coat a couple of years ago, I have the finder with me, and the young lady who he gave them to, believing them to be glass. I'd like to ensure neither of them is accused of theft.”
“Would I be correct in guessing that it's Mrs Williams, née Smith?”
“Entirely correct,”
“I'll be right with you.” The intercom went dead.
“How did he know your name?” Mick asked.
“Business connections. I should have just looked them up, but I didn't expect them to be so close.”
The door opened, and an elderly man greeted them. “It's a pleasure to meet you face to face again, Sarah. Come in! Though I don't suppose you remember me. Your father was a good man.”
“You have the advantage over me,” Sarah said, “Unless, of course, your name is Mark Jennings, who gave me the loupe I have in my hand bag.”
He beamed, “It's so nice to be remembered. You really still have it?”
“I do, and I used it to look at exhibits A and B beautifully displayed by our school-girl here.”
“Hmm, yes. About point six carats, too. If young Sarah's right about the colour, clarity and cut, then it's quite a valuable gift you gave the young lady, sir. Quite a valuable gift indeed. Can you take them off dear? I don't want to have to turn you upside down to look at them from all angles. My back's not as strong as it used to be, you know?”
Victoria smiled at his gentle humour and removed the ear rings. He immediately went to his bench and looked at them under ideal conditions.
“Hmm, yes, very nice. Very nice indeed. This is a very pleasant stone, young lady.” He picked up the other one, “Ah. Yes. A well matched pair, indeed. Fine workmanship on the fitting too, but that's not really my field. In a coat lining, you said?”
“Yes, I was getting it for my mother. It was pretty old, and I noticed a lump in the lining. The shop keeper said it was probably an old sweet. I didn't want to give my mum something with an old sweet in it, so I found the hole in the pocket and got out a tiny box. They were inside.”
“Do you have the box?”
“Yes, here it is.”
“Hmm. Sarah, what do you think?”
“Oh. Now that is interesting. Do we need to take another look?”
“Be my guest. But I think is what we've got here is what you call an embarrassing mistake.”
“What is it?” Victoria asked.
“That box is the sort of box that so-called improved diamonds are delivered in. That's what the 'laser improved' label means. That's to say, someone shot a laser at it to cut out the inclusions and makes the diamond look better but suddenly it's got holes in it that aren't diamond. Basically they're fashion pieces for the cut-price market. But we're pretty sure these are real gems. Describe the coat, Mick?”
“Urm, really old, smelt of mothballs, but reasonable condition. Probably pretty expensive when it was new. It was in that long style that was back in fashion a couple of years ago.”
“Right. So something like fifty years ago, someone bought a pair of cheapish 'improved diamond' earrings which the jeweler had put back in their original box. Only it wasn't the original box, because they'd been working on some real diamonds too, good ones, and there'd been a mix-up. Or maybe the owner got confused and put the good ones in the box for the fashion-accessory stand in. Then they lost what they thought was their cheap ones. Not a massive deal, since they only cost a hundred or so, in Federated Kingdom money. Then they clear out, or their kids do after mum dies, and the coat ends up in the shop you bought it.”
“And you worked all that out from a box?”
“It does say zero point six C.T. on it. That's how big the gems are. Hence I'm guessing there were two sets of very similar diamonds. Unless these are the improved ones, in which case, you've got two embarrassed grown-ups in front of you.”
“I'll retire out of shame if these are falsified, but I'm going to put them in the finger-printer and the analyser just to make sure.”
“Will it take long?” Mick asked, “We're running out of time to get to school.”
“A couple of hours for a complete test. I'll give you a receipt.”
“Thank you,” Victoria said.
“Urm, how much is this going to cost?” Mick asked.
“I'm paying, Mick. Think of it as part of the travel expenses, if you like.”
“Travel expenses?” Mr Jennings asked.
“These two lucky kids have just been issued with invitations for a four to six month work placement at their dream job.”
“Oh? Working for you?”
“Did you know Christina, who married Bob Coal?”
“Your father's personal administrator? Yes.”
“I met John, my husband, where she used to work before Dad poached her. I'm still part time on staff, which helps keep me from feeling like a rich parasite. So if you know where that is, that's where they're doing their placement. If you don't then all I can tell you is it's nice safe place with friendly staff and a lovely top-notch security system.”
“Urm... OK. I think I can guess. Have you heard anything about Bob in the past few decades?”
“Yes, he still works for me. Not in the gem business though, nor travelling. They've got a boy and a girl, twenty-three and twenty-two, I think it is.”
“Well! Do send them my greetings. One receipt for the young lady.”
Victoria looked at it, 'Received for verification of quality and provenance, one pair matched diamond drop ear-rings, 0.6ct, very very slight inclusions, colour F. Approximate valuation for insurance purposes: $40-50,000.'
“Forty to fifty thousand?” she asked.
“Yes. It's on the high side because they're so well matched, that always makes replacing them harder. Sadly you'd probably only get half of that if you sold them. Oh, it's Federal Kingdom dollars, by the way. Insurers always want values in Federal Kingdom dollars, for some reason.”
“Can I just faint?” she asked.
“No dear, you need to get to school,” Sarah said. “And you need to put your name and address on the other half of that receipt, too.”
“I do, yes,” Victoria said.
There was a discrete 'ping' from the finger-printer, and it spat out a statement.
Mr Jennings scratched his head. “Listen to this: 'Fingerprint identified. Original-description: 0.6 ct improved diamond, value in 2245 $100.
Analyst-description: possibly mis-categorised, looks gem, maybe very convincing artificial?
Loss reported (with pair) 2246.
Insurance pay out 2246. Reporting limit 2266-02-25.' So, there you have it. Replacement cost forty to fifty thousand, to my eyes, but no one will offer you more than a couple of hundred for it if they scan it.”
“So what are they?” Mick asked.
“Well, firstly, they're your gift to her, and no one has a claim on them. That's what the reporting limit means. Finders-keepers since ages ago. I'll get you registered as the owner, miss. Beyond that? A mystery for the moment. Expect full results after school. You'll be accompanying them, Sarah?”
“If they don't mind. Unless you want your mum, Victoria?”
“I think I'll call Dad on the way. Break the big news. Would five p.m. be a good time, for an appointment, Mr Jennings?”
“Hmm, let me check. Would five-fifteen do?”
“It's fine with me.”
“Don't forget your receipt, Miss Quy.”
----------------------------------------
9.30 A.M.
“Hi Dad, would you just happen to be free at five-fifteen today?”
“Why?”
“The great ear-ring mystery.”
“What great ear-ring mystery, Vicky? And what happened at the interview.”
“I passed, and Sarah looked at my ear-rings, guessed a number, only four digits, took me and Mick to a real jewelery expert who said a number with five digits, and put them in a machine which said they got lost, like, in twenty two forty six, but they'd cost a hundred. Diamond expert says he'll retire out of shame if that's right, and we all find out at five-fifteen this afternoon.”
“What's Mick got to do with any of this.”
“He gave them to me, and still had the original box and receipt.”
“He bought you diamond ear-rings?”
“No, he bought his mum an old coat and found the ear-rings in the lining. And urm, gave them to me at Christmas and gave the others cheep jewelery as a sort of camouflage.”
“Camouflage?”
“Yes.”
“As in, he guessed they might be valuable and still decided to give them to you?”
“Yes, Dad. His mum doesn't have pierced ears.”
“You make it sound very logical.”
“Urm, yes. So did he.”
“He liked you two years ago.”
“Yes.”
“And he still likes you?”
“Yes, Dad.”
“And you found out when, exactly?”
“Saturday night.”
“I see. And this is Mick the argumentative?”
“Yes, Dad.”
“And you're meeting him again at five-fifteen?”
“I'm meeting him all day, Dad, we're in the same class.”
“What did you argue about yesterday?”
“Urm, not much. Mostly about why he shouldn't drop out of the placement if I'm not going.”
“He's going is he?”
“I can't say that.”
“You just have, munchkin. I guess I'd better meet this young man, hadn't I? What does your mum know?”
“She heard Sarah call my earrings diamonds.”
“Hmm. And a valuer says five digits, does he? Not a bad Christmas present, there, girl. I like his style.”
“Dad, the insurance is going to cost a bomb.”
“Not compared to the weekly food bill.”
“Dad, four or five digits Federal Kingdom dollars, not Alaskan.”
“Ah. Right, I see your point.”
“And I don't know if I want them to turn out to be low quality, so I can wear them, or if I want them to be worth a house. But in either case, Mick says they're mine, he's happy I like them, and he won't hear about be giving them back to him.”
“As long as you'll be his girlfriend?”
“No, Dad. He says no strings attached. Three quarters of his clothes are second hand, but he vows he won't accept them back even if they're worth a house, even if I go out with someone else. Why does he say that, Dad? What drives someone to say things like that?”
“Total insanity? You'd better ask him that, Munchkin. But I can make some guesses.”
“I can too, and if you look at the way we've been bickering over the past year and a half, then maybe I feel the same way about him.”
“What have you been bickering about?”
“I was thinking about that last night. Mostly it starts of about how the other ought to think more clearly, react better, pay better attention, that sort of thing. I.e. stop spoiling my image of you; you're supposed to be better than that.”
“So, where am I meeting you both?”
“Does 'Jennings and Butler.' mean anything to you?”
“Yes, I've had dealings with them. Which one offered to retire?”
“Mr Jennings. He knew Sarah's dad, apparently.”
“And you're suddenly on first name terms with one of the hundred richest women in the world, are you?”
“She asked me to call her that, yes, dad.”
“OK, Munchkin, but there's a difference between calling someone their name to their faces and referring to them in conversation.”
“She said both, when talking to family members. It's safer if someone overhears.”
The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
“Got it all worked out, has she?”
“She seems to Dad. Oh, Dad, are we related to anyone called Quy in the Restored Kingdom? Sarah knows some Quys there.”
“Really? Might be fifth cousins or something; You know your great-grandad came from there, don't you? Some sort of family feud.”
“I don't think you've ever told me that.”
“Oh well. See you at five-fifteen, Munchkin. And we'll see if Mr Jennings is finally going to retire, or not.”
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YVETTE'S SCHOOL, ANCHORAGE, 11.15AM
Victoria Quy drew in her breath, gathered all her courage, and resisted the visceral desire to flee down the corridor and hide in the girl's bathroom. She knocked.
“A few moments please,” she heard from the other side of the dread portal marked “Headmaster” She waited, and then her classmate Jim stuck his head out, “Hi Vicky, come to hand in your resignation too?”
“My what?”
“You resignation from school society and even from that vast majority of society who can be spoken of freely and know no secrets that can get them thrown into prison for the mere mentioning of them,” the headmaster expanded.
“Urm, yes sir.”
“Well come on in, and shut that door then. Unless you happen to know who else we're expecting and he's coming down the corridor — I have been permitted to learn he's male.”
Vicky noticed there was another man in the room. She vaguely remembered seeing him before, but she couldn't place him.
“I do know who, sir, but I don't see him. I could call him...?” she suggested.
“If you think you can do that without breaking any laws, please go ahead.”
Self-consciously avoiding letting anyone see who she was ringing, she called Mick. “Hey slowcoach, assuming you actually have a letter to show the headmaster, bring it now, will you? He's waiting.” She heard his surprise — calling one another during school-time being banned, normally, then he said something that might have been 'coming'. “Thank you. Now, given the circumstances, can you please identify yourself to our school inspector here, and state why you're here. I'm not sure I'm allowed to.”
“My name is Victoria Quy, sir, and I have a letter of invitation to a work-placement at the Institute for the Human Mind.”
“And you also had a second interview this morning?”
“Yes, sir. Well, it wasn't much of an interview.”
“Oh?”
“I was just told I had the place if I wanted it.”
“Did you see the other candidate for the spot leaving?”
“Yes, sir. Not happily.”
“Would you care to speculate what happened?”
“Urm...”
“Because there's been a complaint.”
“What? Oh, the idiot! Was it anonymous?”
“Yes.”
“OK. The person I saw going to interview after me is Jim here. The person I saw before me is in a relationship, probably the tenth this year, but this one seems to be lasting. I expect that she expressed some doubts about participating in the placement scheme, on Saturday, and so I'm presuming that she didn't get asked certain extremely personal questions that I was asked. I presume she interviewed well in what she did answer, and the director gave her time to consider her position. My guess is that the second interviewer thought that her social patterns were unhealthy.”
“Her social patterns, as you call them, are common knowledge among students?”
“Yes, sir.”
“If you were not being kind and diplomatic, would you call her a slut?”
“From a psych-counselling perspective, sir, I believe the correct term is a victim of inappropriate social pressures.”
“So that's a yes, is it?” The inspector asked.
Victoria draw herself up, “No sir. If I was being unkind and undiplomatic I would call her a fool. I think she thinks she needs a boyfriend to prove she's grown up now, or to assert her independence or something like that. I don't think she's such a fool as the term you used implies.”
“Do you know anything about her current boyfriend?”
“I think he's older than her, but in the same school year as us because he had to redo a year. I heard her say he's on a two-week long school trip at the moment.”
The headmaster looked at the inspector who raised his eyebrows. The last few months of teaching was an unusual time of year for such a long trip.
“But you don't know what school?”
“No.”
“Sir?” Jim asked, “Vicky used the word victim earlier. I'm guessing who she's talking about, and I don't know about when she last swapped boyfriends. She dumped me a few months ago, she said because I wanted to spend too much time with her. But... I've seen some bruises high up on her arms recently. I get bruises all the time because I'm clumsy and accident-prone, and I didn't think anything of it, but... no one has doorhandles that high, surely?”
“If you believe there is a possibility that a class-mate is being abused, either by a family member or anyone else, you are encouraged to alert your form teacher, the school nurse, or myself,” the head said.
“I believe Henrietta may have been held with excessive force, sir. About two weeks ago. I have no idea who by. She... mostly avoids me these days.”
“Could you describe her home situation, from your perspective?” the school:inspector asked.
“Henrietta told me her mother has not been in a stable relationship since her father died in a hunting accident. I think there have been some unstable ones. Beyond that, I don't really know. I only met her mother once or twice, but I think they're quite close. I think she'd take any criticism of her life as criticism of her mother's.”
There was a knock on the door; it was Mick. “You need to say why you're here, because we can't.” Jim said.
“I'm invited to Institute for the Human Mind on a study placement, sir.” Mick said.
“Thank you, so, these three plus the other young lady you spoke to on the phone, expect to leave their native land for foreign and slightly warmer places. They have a work-study visa that allows them to extend their stay indefinitely. The placement is offered for six months, but the Institute will not count it as failure if the school agrees to them cutting it down to four. The Institute is guaranteeing return flights, providing medical insurance, and even a trip home in the event of a family emergency. What I would dearly like to know is how this fits in with school inspections, and how we can meet the reporting requirements for students on placements if we can't tell anyone where they are. I'd also like to know from these students if they are expecting to return to collect their graduation certificates and tell the year below them what they thought of the placement, or if we're heading into a placement scheme where people go and most of the rest of the school hears nothing about it. As I understand the law, we can't even say that you went on the placement and as a result got a good university place.”
“Would some kind of anonymous version be OK?” the inspector asked “'Student A was one of four placement students and she is now studying...' and so on?”
“Possibly, possibly,” the head agreed.
“As for inspection, I guess it means I can't easily be moved to inspecting a different school, which suits me just fine!” the inspector said, “I presume you young people will be returning home for university?”
“Erm, maybe,” Mick replied, glancing at Victoria, “the director's wife said that if we stayed for six months, then we'd count as local students at Restoration University, which would get us reduced course fees. I was looking into it, and a degree as a local student there costs less than one here even if you're paying, and I think I might qualify for fee support.”
“My grandmother was an immigrant and I'm a Christian,” Victoria said. “I'm not going to take an oath I'd violate every time I sing certain hymns at church.”
“I don't think there's any plan to make the oath of allegiance discriminatory on religious grounds, young lady,” the inspector said.
“All versions published so far say 'I owe no allegiance to any king or ruler other than the king of Alaska and his descendants, nor to any law other than the laws of Alaska.' Yesterday in Church I sang a song that could be summarised 'I owe my life to king Jesus, and will obey his laws of love.' I do not think the two are compatible.”
“Well, one song does not make a religion. I'm sure you could sing something else.”
“'All hail king Jesus!', perhaps?” Mick suggested, “Jesus is King and I will extol him?”
“Not to mention the original words of 'Come thou long expected Jesus' that we in the choir sang a distorted version of last Christmas.” Jim said, “I mean, a bit of modernisation is OK, but I really hate having to say 'we sang Come thou long expected Jesus, only it was a version where there wasn't any mention of who he was or what he did, or why we might be waiting for him'. I was shocked when I compared our version to what the original said.”
“Well yes, the original is a bit shocking,” the headmaster said.
“The original makes sense. 'Born to reign in us forever, now thy gracious kingdom bring', OK it's religious but it's supposed to be! Who on Earth decided it was a good idea to emasculate it to 'Born our presents to deliver?' I bet anyone who knew the original was really upset.”
“We didn't get any complaints, young man. You're entitled to your opinion, but his majesty himself penned that version.”
“I didn't know that,” Jim said, he turned to Mick, “He must really hate you Christians.”
“A great many Christian hymns started out as pub songs, which had different words put to them.” Mick said, “I guess his majesty now wants to change the words again so we sing pub songs in church. I'm not convinced he's going to get his way, any more than Nero or Neb, did.”
“Amen,” Victoria said.
“I think we've deviated from our topic quite a long way,” the headmaster said, clearly uncomfortable with the discussion of religion in front of the inspector.
“But I think my question is answered, some of these young people clearly believe that there are advantages to them in staying in the Restored kingdom, and religious motives are present. As head you have to decide if, in the light of the complaint, there has been religious discrimination against non-Christians by the Institute director or not.”
“Sir,” Jim said, “I am not a Christian, I am not in the least interested in becoming a Christian, and I specifically asked the director how pretty the girls are in Restoration, and what they meant when they said unethical and immoral behaviour might get the placement terminated.
“And his answer was?”
“That in a society where most of the pretty girls don't go to church, but a lot more did than here, or went to mosque, and so on, I mustn't disgrace the institute by breaking any laws or acting in a way that the section of society they belonged to would see as wrong. So, for example having multiple girlfriends at the same time would upset everyone, or trying to get too friendly with a Moslem girl would really offend her family. I mustn't use my position at the institute to help me win girlfriends. He also added that since I'm not a legal adult there until I turn eighteen, I needed to remember that being away from home didn't mean no rules. In other words, sirs, I don't think he was privileging his moral rules over anyone else's, and he certainly didn't reject me because I'm not a Christian.”
“But you did have to go through a second interview.”
“Urm, yes. That was more to do with be being a bit of a lazy slob, sir. And then Mrs Director worked out how I could earn my keep even if I'm too clumsy to be trusted with washing up, so I've got a place.”
“So you don't feel discriminated against?”
“I feel like they bent their rules for me to go, sir. Everyone else is going to be washing up and cleaning in exchange for their stay, I get to do fun stuff like jewelery and watch repair work.”
“Who says you're too clumsy?”
“My mum, after I broke two plates washing up yesterday and she banned me from the kitchen. And then dad, when I tried cutting wood and put the axe through my shoe.”
“But you're to be trusted with delicate work like jewelery?”
“I can do finger-work, it's just arms and elbows I can't seem to get right.”
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JENNINGS AND BUTLER, VALUERS, 5.15PM
“Right on time, Dad.” Victoria said, checking her watch. “This is Mick.”
“The poor lad with a generous heart. Well, the first is easier to fix than the second.” He shook Mick's hand. “I expect you to come to meet my wife tomorrow, young man. Let's not have needless secrets.”
“You're going to tell mum about the ear-rings, then Dad?”
“I said needless. Let's see how great the need is, shall we?”
“You're not reacting how I expected you to, Dad.”
“Vicky, I told you not to fall for some poor kid who's in love with your money. If this young man is giving you a earrings that might be worth a house, he's not after your money, now, is he? Right now you're going in the right direction to a good secure job, Mick. That's not bad. If you can pick up some business skills from Mrs Williams here, that's even better.”
“Sarah please, Mr Quy. It's the closest I can come to anonymity. But let's not keep Mr Jennings waiting.” She pressed the intercom.
“You'll forgive me if I don't open the door myself, I hope,” Mr Jennings said, after she'd announced herself “Come on up.”
In the workshop he said, “Well, you're the first to hear, but rumours of my retirement have some small substance.”
“You're not saying it's been enhanced?” Sarah asked.
“No, no it's diamond through and through. But the inclusions... they're the key. Can you read one of these, Sarah?” He handed her the inclusion maps that the diamond identifier had made.
“Urm, it's been about two decades, but, hmm, they're the same shape, aren't they? That's odd.”
“Yes. And it's not a natural mineral either. Those, young Sarah, are inclusions of a smudge of stainless steel.”
“Artificial diamonds,” Sarah said.
“Exactly. Sorry young people, remove a zero from what I said earlier.”
“Only one?” Sarah asked, surprised.
“Only one. I'm quite convinced — I asked around — a pair of artificial diamonds of this quality, with these properties, is an utter fluke.
Made the historic way there'd normally be more flaws, made the modern way, wafer-style, it should have been flawless. But somehow, we presume, there was some kind of manufacturing glitch. Matched like this? Who knows how it happened, maybe someone got a drop of acid in the wrong place or something, or there really was a laser involved, but it's not anything anyone I asked in the industry knows how to reproduce. So, if you want to sell them, there are industry figures who'd love to study them — probably destructively. And if they can learn how to reproduce convincing inclusions... well there are plenty of people in the natural-diamond trade who don't want that to happen enough to buy them just to destroy them. So, expect a bidding war, and expect me to retire, because I'm a romantic and would hate to see something this beautiful ruined on account of my work. They are artificial diamonds, but they're either very special or an abomination, depending on your viewpoint, and their uniqueness makes me feel like they're almost natural. Knowing this... I'm not really prepared to write it all into the log. If I did... I expect you'd be constantly badgered by people offering to buy them. I've been wondering what to write, and have come up with this, what do you think? It's not strictly a lie, since it was an earlier interpretation, but it hides the fact that I'm convinced these were produced the modern way.” He showed them the screen.
'Original description erroneous; no enhancement of these high quality diamonds. Careful analysis of matching inclusions suggests this well-matched pair cannot be natural, but might be early lab-created gems of exceptional quality, possibly incorporating a significant natural seed. Rarity and quality of such gems means like-for-like on clarity is nearly impossible without purchasing natural gem. Auction price should easily exceed $3000 per stone, more than double as matched pair.'
“I've got another thought,” Sarah said.
“Oh?”
“You're basically saying you don't know who could make them. Should we ask the Mer if it might have been them?”
“But it was first registered long before they came out of hiding,” Mr Quy said.
“I've got Mer blood dating back to the age of chaos,” Sarah pointed out. “They've been sending observers among us landfolk for years, and I know they're capable of embedding metal in discs of artificial diamonds in a way that leaves my manufacturer contacts scratching their heads, because they did it for their ambassadors. I don't know why one of them would think to do this, it doesn't seem their style, but I expect they're capable.”
“So you think I add ought to that?” Mr Jennings asked.
“I don't think so, actuall,y” Sarah said, “It'll only increase curiosity about them. On the other hand it might mean that these lovely stones don't get destroyed by any vandals.”
“I'd be happy to learn that, yes.” Mr Jennings said.
“And your report says I'd basically be a fool to sell them, right?” Victoria said.
“You'd certainly never get stones that nice for what you'd get for them,” Mr Jennings said. “Flawless artificial diamonds are pretty enough, but a bit dull and boring, these are mysterious and enigmatic, just like they ought to be. But if you want to wear them, you can also tell people they're artificial. A sorry name for these beauties, but still, if you do, they'll expect a price tag of only a few hundred.”
“And it'd be perfectly true to add the word 'imperfect' in there,” Sarah said with a smile, “just to confuse people even more.”
“You really think I should wear them?”
Mr Quy answered before Sarah could, “If you're planning to tell me you think you should suddenly stop wearing them, now that I've met the boy who gave them to you, then maybe we ought to rethink him coming to dinner tomorrow evening.”
“I'm not, Dad.” Victoria said, grabbing Mick's hand.
“I hope, Sarah, you're planning to make sure that things don't get out of hand there?” Mr Quy asked. “I really don't know what possessed you to accept a couple of love-sick teens.”
“Oh, probably compassion,” Sarah said with a shrug. “As for getting out hand, they'll have to be really skilled in deception to get anything past me and my spy network. I've only got one daughter, but for the last quarter of a century I've been matriarch to a growing clan, so I've seen through all the tricks over the years. Plus, of course I've also got some truthsayers I can call any time I like. But on the subject of the clan... Victoria said I might know some distant cousins of yours? Francis Quy and his wife Cleo, or perhaps his second cousin Myra Wilcox, whose mother was Meredith Quy?”
“Myra Wilcox? There's a famous name. The Myra Wilcox?”
“Journalist, yes.”
“Well, my grandfather left the Restored Kingdom when he was about thirty five, and I've seen some old letters from someone called Meredith calling him uncle, so it's possible. I don't suppose you know if the family has kept family tree?”
“Oh yes. It goes back centuries. I'll get Q.Q. to send Victoria a copy.”
“Q.Q?”
“Quentin Quy, son of Francis and Cleo. Claim to fame is that for five years or so everyone thought he was going to marry my P.A. and hence he joined the clan. Eventually they had a conversation they both thought would be painful for the other, breathed a joint sigh of relief and she told her cousin Kara that she could have him. His sister Rhianna has the claim to fame of working in Atlantis before it moved.”
“Before it moved?” Mick asked.
“Yes. She was the first land-folk contractor there. You'll have to ask her what she was doing.”
“You're telling us it was connected to the Institute?” Victoria asked.
“No. I'm just saying I don't really want to gossip about your probable relatives behind their backs.”
“What was that about Q.Q. and his wife then?” Mick asked.
“That was the introduction to the family you're going to be staying with, Mick, and the warning that first-love does not always turn into marriage, no matter if everyone firmly expects it to happen. He and Kara are both teachers, by the way, but she's part-time. They have four children. Eldest is twelve, youngest is a five.”
“And did your P.A. ever marry?” Victoria asked.
“May is very happily married, yes. She's only part time as my P.A. now, of course. She's president-spokeswoman of the Interplanetary Council of Truthsayer Associations, in case you'd missed that link.”
“By which you're telling me that Q.Q. is a truthsayer?” Mick asked.
“No, because that would be breaking his absolute right to privacy about such things. And there are quite a number of thought-hearers who are not truthsayers and plenty of thought-hearers who marry non-thought-hearers.”
“Sorry.”
“So don't go leaping to assumptions. Knowing, however, that May is a truthsayer, and has publicly spoken about her grandmother having the gift, ought to indicate to you that there's a reasonable chance that there's at least one thought-hearer between Kara and the four kids. If thought-hearers in your placement-family as well as at the Institute is something you don't think you can cope with, you ought to say so soonish.”
“At the Institute too?” Mr Quy asked, surprised.
“There almost has to be, Dad,” Victoria said. “And someone with the gift, too. Providing a safe environment for the exploration of unusual mental abilities is the Institute's main reason for existing.”
“Someone's been doing some background reading, I see.” Sarah said, smiling, “Well done.”
Sarah heard Mr Quy think that Sarah must have really good mental control to risk working in that environment
“You don't have a problem with that, I presume,” he said.
“The Institute staff are perfectly used to helping people while keeping their secrets, Mr Quy. In the course of a year staff hear all sorts of stupid things, ranging from a dictator's idle thoughts about world domination to petty items of gossip of no interest to anyone except those involved. Much of it is spoken, some of it is thought. None of it is passed on outside the building, patients and visitors have absolute confidentiality.”
Mr Quy asked his favourite question about confidentiality: “What about if you hear some dictator planning to use poison gas?”
“Then the psyche-counsellor would seek to persuade the dictator that would be a very bad idea,” Sarah said.
“And if they refused to listen? If they'll stop at nothing?”
“The person who has such as contempt for human life that they will stop at nothing is mentally ill, Mr Quy, and it is always the counsellor who decides if the session is over or not. That contractual clause is always there. And the institute has a carefully programmed A.I. and as well as a good understanding of human language use. There are also key phrases have been programmed in to it so that the psyche-counsellor can alert it that they feel that the patient is dangerous.”
“So you tell them it's not over yet, and when they get angry it calls the police to let them have a listen in and decide to gas the maniac?”
“The sessions are strictly confidential, Mr Quy. But the A.I. does not need human authority to intervene to protect someone's life. If it decides you're an active threat to a member of staff, you get a dose of sleep-gas.”
“Ah. And that triggers some kind of investigation?”
“It triggers an almighty diplomatic incident, and the presence of U.N. observers, yes, at which point the psych-counsellor can declare they felt the things said were an indication of a serious mental illness, and give it a whole heap of technical terms. Mental illness including terms like psychopath, plus a physical attack on a psych-counsellor? I doubt your hypothetical dictator would be going home very quickly.”
“But you've not actually tested the system.”
“Now you've moved from hypothetical situations to asking about secrets, Mr Quy. And secrets stay secret.”
----------------------------------------
HOTEL ROOM, 9PM
“Yvette?” Sarah said, “You've been mulling over your questions for ages. Do you want me to just have a look, or do you just want to come out and ask them?”
“Pardon?”
“Please don't deny you've got questions. You've been deciding 'no, I won't ask Sarah' every five minutes for the last hour or so.”
“Oh, I've got lots of questions. I'm just wondering what you mean about 'having a look'.”
[Oh?] Sarah thought to her, [Haven't you worked it out yet?]
Yvette's jaw fell open.
[Any time you feel you need a chat, we're here for you.] John added from next door. [Sarah and I work pretty well as a team, but I totally understand if you'd rather you kept things woman-to-woman.]
“Both..?” she managed to say.
[{calm} Breath deeply, Yvette, we don't want you fainting.] Sarah thought to her.
“Wow. I guess that explains how Maggie seemed so off-hand about Kevin having the gift.”
[Try not to say that aloud, Yvette. Just think as though we're touching.]
[This is something else to get used to. It was bad enough when Kevin got Maggie talking to me. Hey, look at me, I'm perfectly sane, I just heard a voice telling me Kevin was all mine.]
[Stressful time, I imagine. So, questions?]
[I guess it comes down to how much you want me to be your daughter, as opposed to who I've been until now.]
[You mean, do I want you to dress differently, and so on?]
[Urm, yes, that too. But, you know, university's not the most normal thing for an engaged girl among us.]
[No, I can appreciate that. I still recommend it though.]
[Why? It's just wasting a few of my limited years.]
[You might have the gene, but there's no guarantee you're not going to live until you're eighty, Yvette. And... quite simply, a bit more growing up will help you be a better wife and a better mother. University is a fairly safe place to grow up, as long as you've got morals. You have, so I'm not worried. So, what other sorts of culture clashes are you worried about?]
[I don't know. That's the whole thing. I assume food is different, cooking habits are different, budgets are way different, dress is different, attitudes to being alone or not are different.]
[I get the feeling that you feel... exposed?]
[Yes.]
[And abandoned?]
[Not quite, just... going to school alone, that was a bit odd. Coming here alone, that felt really, urm.... flagrant.]
[Single girl entering a hotel... OK, we've been breaking rules we didn't think of, haven't we? Sorry. OK, I've got an odd suggestion.]
[Yes?]
[How well do you really get on with Vicky?]
[Very well.]
[Well enough to tell her how uncomfortable coming to an empty hotel room makes you feel? It's going to be worse tomorrow, because we'll be at this thing with the king. Who knows how long it'll take.]
[You're thinking of asking her here?]
[I was wondering if I ought to ask her parents to let you sleep over on her floor for a few nights. I'm not trying to get rid of you at all, just I'm thinking it might sort of be worth a trial of you being room-mates. That would make keeping her safe easier — there is a kidnap/extortion risk, after all, not to mention me promising her dad I'd be keeping an watchful eye on her as regards Mick. But I'm also
wondering if having the pair of you sharing a room would be a bad idea, three cultures, not just two, and with you being adopted... we ought to be treating you differently to each other, and we'd probably make her feel excluded, or awkward at being included too much. But, on the security front, someone called Quy from Alaska? Fairly easy to find out what her family business is. That's just a bit of a risk, there. I'd prefer her to live in a home with a good house security system.]
[What if you don't treat us differently?]
[I'm planning on teaching you all about your new family business, introduce you to the clan — I'll warn you, get them together and things can get a bit boisterous — things like that. I suppose it doesn't all need to happen before the summer...]
[Small steps at once might be best, Sarah.] John thought.
[OK, but we are taking you to stay in Blackwood cabins every so often. And if you want to do any weekend work then there are going to be some limitations.]
[Oh?]
[Not customer-facing. You'll be seen with us on a regular basis, and that makes you a potential target. Potential targets don't work at the local supermarket with a name-tag on.]
[The same goes for Vicky, doesn't it?]
[True.]
[Shall I tell her I've convinced you she's going to be my room-mate, then?]
[You have, have you? OK.]
[I've got a deeply embedded sense of safety in numbers, Sarah. Alone is weird, unnatural. Pairs are acceptable, crowded is homely.]
[Right. You might feel right at home when you meet the clan, then. Vicky can always hide if it's too much for her.]
[Want to plunge right into the deep-end with a gathering on Saturday, jet-lag not withstanding?] John asked.
[Can you talk more about the clan? You keep mentioning it, but...] Yvette asked.
[Come over here and hold hands and I'll give you a memory-ball. It's is a little technique I used to think only worked between people with the gift, but as long as we keep things small then its much faster that talking.]
[A memory ball?]
[Names, faces, and family tree are probably enough for you. The Ngbila clan are all that remains of an African tribe that got all-but wiped out in a senseless war during the age of chaos. They used to be entirely patriarchal, but the first Mr Ngbila referred everything to his wife, the old chief's daughter, since he'd been brought up near London. And by the time she died the concept of a matriarchy was firmly embedded. We're not a tribe, because tribes have laws and do silly things like go to war over land. We're a clan, an extended family with blood relatives and adoptive relatives, and yes we have rules, but it all comes down to looking after each other.]
[And the matriarch knowing best,] John said.
[Oh, don't start that again,] Sarah thought to him.
[But you do! That's the thing, Sarah, and I'm very proud of the work you do keeping the clan on the right track and making it more inclusive.]
[Inclusive?] Yvette asked.
[We've got some unexpected members. My distant relatives, brothers and sisters of people who've married in, or almost married in and their siblings stayed, that sort of thing.]
[So, actually, you're used to adopting people.]
[I don't expect adopting a daughter to be the same as adopting a new clan member, but yes, we're not total foreigners to the idea. Meet your new extended family, Yvette. {memory}]
Yvette's eyes went wide and she felt a bit dizzy as her mind adjusted to what it had just received. “Wow. Oh wow!” Tears ran down her face, “Wow! Thank you, Sarah. I didn't realise! Uncles and aunts and cousins galore! And I was expecting to be so lonely!”
Sarah checked for clan-members who'd hear her back home and weren't too busy or asleep. [Hi folks. Say hi to Yvette, everyone. John and I are going to be adopting her.] Yvette heard a chorus of greetings, and someone asked if she was single, by any chance.
Sarah's response was instant [Tom, she's got a fiancé already so I don't care how lonely you are, if you try poaching I'll box your ears and then set Kevin on you.]
[Maggie's Kevin?] Tom thought.
[Maggie decided I had prior claim. My Kevin.] Yvette thought.
[Hi, Yvette,] May thought, [I'm May, and my lovely little stinker here is Rhianna {image}. Sarah's told me all about you. Are you up for a welcome gathering on Saturday?]
[If it's not too difficult...] Yvette thought.
[Yes, she would.] Sarah thought, decisively. [Now, give little Rhi a new nappy and a kiss from me, and get some sleep.]
[Anything you say, boss.]
[And big Rhi, can you send me your family tree? You've probably got a relative here.]
[Oooh, long lost uncle what's his name who ran off to Alaska got married did he?] Rhianna asked.
[Unless there are multiple Quy clans.]
----------------------------------------
QUY HOUSE, ANCHORAGE, 9.30PM
“Mr Quy, Sarah here. I'm calling about what family to put Victoria in.”
“You have an idea?”
“Well, Yvette will be staying with us, of course, and she tells me that she'd much rather Victoria stay too, instead of her being the only one in the house under forty. There are cultural-background things there as well, of course. Our home does have a good security system, so it would save me any anxiety on that front. But what I'm asking is if you would be happy with that arrangement?”
“I'm a bit confused. Shouldn't you be asking Victoria?”
“Oh, sorry, I've skipped a bit. She's happy with the idea, but was thinking that having a trial period might be a good idea, and since my husband and I need to attend some meetings tomorrow, we were wondering if Yvette could stay with you for the next couple of nights. She's a bit nervous at the idea of being seen going into a hotel on her own, given the accusations that have been leveled at her.”
“You've lost me again. Yvette is she staying at a hotel? Why is her mother allowing that?”
“Oh, you don't know, do you? Sorry.” she glanced at Yvette, who nodded. “Yvette has been accused of immoral behaviour and kicked out of her family. Admittedly she publicly embarrassed her mother, but the accusations are baseless. We were there, she was a crumpled heap on the floor — literally — and no one else was coming to her defence, so we did. Her birth-mother then said if we were so concerned, we could adopt her, she certainly wasn't welcome where she'd called home. We said OK. So far Yvette's birth-mother's signed papers confirming her decision, and we're fully planning to adopt her; papers lodged, etcetera.”
“You're sure the accusations are false, then?”
“Absolutely.”
“Just, my wife had heard...something about her and a boy, ah... intertwined.”
“The rumour-mill works that well, eh?” Sarah asked. “She's talked over what happened with a truthsayer, Mr Quy. From what I've seen, her mother has a vicious tongue, a gossip habit, and a deep streak of bitterness. Yvette has not inherited any of those things, and when the paperwork has gone through I'm going to be proud to name her my daughter.”
“I'm going to be honest, I don't think my wife will be at all happy.”
“Is she going to be happy with Victoria staying in my house, if she's not prepared to take my word on the respectability of my future daughter?”
“She'd better be. I can't imagine there are many places in Restoration with a better security system than I presume you have.”
“Well, there's the Institute, and there's a prison on the outskirts of the city, but there the security system is mainly facing the other way, as it were. Oh, and there's pretty good security at the power-stations too. And I know of a few other places where they've got a similar system to mine, but I'm not allowed to talk about them.”
“Right,” he said. “I'll convince her, and I'll try about Yvette too.”
“Thank you, Mr Quy. I'd really appreciate it if you kept this bit of personal information between you and Vicky, but... if you really want to know that I'm well informed about Yvette, ask Victoria about the old article about me getting a job and my first few days there that I told her to read.”
“Sarah, that doesn't make much sense to me.”
“But you'll do it anyway?”
“Yes, I'll do that.”
“I'll warn you... I've had someone in the past tell me that they've lost sleep worrying that God'd curse them if they accidentally pass it on to anyone.”
“I don't believe in God, Sarah.”
“You might not trust him, Mr Quy, but I don't think you're quite the convinced atheist.”
“What secrets has Victoria been spilling then?”
“Oh, don't blame Victoria, she's not said a thing about your spiritual state, but I do have a number of contacts in the business world and here and there who've helped me to decide you're more trustworthy than many. But I won't take any more of your time now. Just do let me know how your discussions go, so I can tell Yvette where she ought to go after school tomorrow.”
“OK, I'll do that. Is first thing tomorrow OK?”
“Yes, that's fine.”
“Good bye then.”
“Bye.”
“Was that Sarah?” Victoria asked her father, from the study's doorway.
“It was. She said some really odd things, but one is I need to ask you about the old article about her that she told you to read.”
“About her?”
“Yes. Did she forget to tell you that?”
“Well, she did give me an old news report, but really it just said what I told you about there having to be people with the gift at the Institute.”
“So, why did she say it was about her getting a job “.
“She said it was about her getting a job?” Victoria said.
“That's what she said, her getting a job and her first few days there. Make sense?”
“Urm, wow. I guess I need to read it again, just to make sure it says what I think it says.”
“And any idea why she'd think it has something to do with her knowing that what your mother's heard about Yvette is a bunch of lies? And what on Earth she meant about someone getting worried about being cursed by God if they spread it around ?”
“Urm, yes.” Victoria drew in a deep breath. “Yes, I have, Dad. And I guess I don't need to re-read it.”
“And?”
“You could just believe her, Dad. If Sarah says Yvette's innocent, she ought to know.”
“Why?”
“You sure you want to hear this?”
“What are you trying not to say, that she's in league with the devil or something?”
“Absolutely not, dad. The article is all about the first few days after the Institute employed someone with the mind-reading gift.”
“Ah. No wonder she said it was personal, and just between you and me kiddo. Still happy to stay with them?”
“I knew there was probably someone at the institute with the gift. That didn't scare me off. Yes, dad, I'm happy to stay with them. Can we let Yvette stay please? Her brother hasn't really liked her since their dad died. It sounds like he hates her now. If he sees her going into that hotel alone, he's going to leap to even more wrong conclusions and it might turn really nasty. And now I understand how Yvette knows he knows she's staying there.”
“Oh? I hadn't heard about that side of things. It'll rather interrupt the great interrogation of your young man.”
“Oh, we've solved that one, she's perfectly happy to vanish into the kitchen, or somewhere.”
“Hmm, thought of everything, have you?”
“Tried to, Dad.”
“What about your mum saying she's not bought enough meat?”
“I expect that if that's mum's only excuse, then Sarah will happily get some some extra delivered, and then I'll forget to keep quiet about it when one of her friends is around.”
“Don't deliberately embarrass your mother, Munchkin, it's not respectful.”
“Sorry, Dad.”
“If anyone has to, then it's my job.”