WARPING EFFECTS / CH. 13:PROGRESS
RESTORATION, 11.30AM FRIDAY MORNING, 17TH JAN 2296
“Well,” John said, once they'd transferred all their luggage from the hypersonic pod to the big transport they'd pre-ordered. “As you know, we're here about twelve hours earlier than we expected. This means that your host families probably aren't ready for you, but that we have an excellent opportunity to introduce you to the Institute while you're all woozy from lack of sleep.”
“Why is that an excellent opportunity?” Jim asked.
“Because no one ought to expect you to say anything sensible, handle any sharp objects, delicate equipment or so on, but there's still going to be pizza in an hour.”
“Yey, food,” Victoria mumbled, not feeling enthusiastic at all.
“There are also beds in the cellar-flats,” John said.
“And showers?” Mick asked.
“Yes,” Sarah said, “and there ought to be clean towels down there too. Oh, and don't worry about hot water, the institute has a fusion reactor and a full water recycling-filtration system. You will not make any difference to the power or water bill.”
“Oh, bliss!” Victoria said, perking up, “Can I take up permanent residence?”
“No, Mick'd feel lonely and abandoned,” Yvette said. “Assuming you mean under the shower.”
“But if you're willing to be last in the queue you're welcome to have a longer shower than the rest of us, if it'll help you feel human,” Sarah said.
“Speaking of feeling human...” John said, “One of the permanent staff members hides his shyness by being a bit theatrical.”
“As in quoting Shakespeare?” Mick asked.
“More... mad scientist. Don't worry, he's entirely harmless. Just he can be a bit surprising the first time you meet him.”
“Mad scientist?” Yvette asked.
“One of his classic lines is 'Can you give me a hand to make the pizza? Ze operation to grow it back does not take zo very long.' That sort of genre.”
“That's gross,” Victoria said.
“Funny,” Mick corrected, who'd started sniggering.
Yvette looked blank for a while, then said “Oh, it's a pun. I'm dense this morning. It is morning, isn't it?”
“Yes,” Mick said, still failing to control his sniggers.
“Mick, you are sleep-depraved,” Jim said.
“You mean deprived,” Mick corrected.
“I stand by my comment,” Jim intoned.
“Young people, calm down please,” Sarah said. “Let's hope there aren't too many clients around,” she added to John.
“Yes. Can you call ahead?”
“Certainly. Kids, notice something, and apply your minds, not your voices. I trust you won't speak about this outside the Institute.”
Jim realised she wasn't making any attempt to use her wrist unit, and said, “I've just noticed there wasn't a truthsayer at second interview.”
“I said not outside the Institute, Jim. It is not actually very hard to bug one of these vehicles. I've never done it myself, but I know a few people who'd have no difficulty at all.”
“Don't you get arrested for that sort of thing?”
“Yes, unless you're doing it for a foreign power and you're attached to an embassy, in which case you get deported, or as part of a legal investigation in which case it's just part of your job.”
“And are any of us being investigated?”
“We know the King of Alaska's not very happy with my charitable work.”
“Or some of the other things we were there for,” John said, “which are definitely not for discussion in a public transport.”
Sarah pulled out a familiar piece of waxed paper and wrote 'No one is being individually investigated.' Then said, in a clear voice, “Computer, the conversation in this vehicle is and has been private and is subject to the reporting ban under Restored Kingdom and United Nations law. Acknowledge.”
“Acknowledged privacy claim on vehicle conversation.”
“Computer, has a fleet operative been listening in to our conversation?”
“Company policy prevents answer. Any individual journey may be recorded for training purposes and legal review.”
“Computer, legal override. All records connected with this journey and any listeners must be preserved. Listening requests of any listeners must be preserved. Failure to retain records will result in legal proceedings. Acknowledge.”
She didn't need to glance at John to know he had started tapping on his wrist unit.
“Acknowledge passenger request to preserve recordings. Acknowledge passenger request to preserve access details. Acknowledge threat of legal proceedings by passenger if requests not met.”
“Correction. Legal proceedings will be by Internal Security. No journey to or from Institute for Human Mind may be recorded or listened to under security legislation. Alert company directors and legal department if anyone makes any attempt to alter or delete records. Acknowledge.”
“Legal threats against company are a breach of carriage conditions. Booking null and void. This journey terminates here.” The transport pulled to the side of the road and opened its doors.
“I don't know if the human operator that took that decision is still listening,” Sarah said, “But that little bit of stupidity has quite possibly just made sure that the entire staff will be interviewed by Internal Security's anti-terrorist department.”
John looked up from his wrist unit. “Advice from Security is to vacate the vehicle and wait for secure transport.”
“Sounds good advice,” Sarah said. “OK kids, sorry for the unexpected stop. It seems the transport company don't want to keep their operating licence. Let's form up a bucket chain to unload the luggage. John, you're near the door, where are we? All I can see is suitcases and backs of heads.”
“Oh! Just outside a very familiar office building, dear.”
“That's convenient,” Sarah said and called to May. [Hi, May! I don't know if we've got any contracts with 'EasyTrip Transports,' but assume they're going to lose their operating licence in about half a day, max.]
[Oooh, what have they done?]
[Had someone listening in while we were on our way to the institute, and when I warned them that was illegal they nullified our booking and dumped us. Fortunately we're just outside the office.]
[Want a hand?]
[Well, if someone could wheel out some kind of trolley for loads of bags, that'd be nice.]
[Not a problem. I'll borrow one from the post room.]
[Get a big one.]
[You've got all of Yvette's stuff?]
[Being incommunicado meant arranging for it to come separately didn't happen.]
[Does this fall into the category of 'oh well, it's just money?']
[Actually the airline were happy to take it. I asked about sending them as cargo, but they said they were going to be half-empty so they'd love to take them at the normal rate for an extra suitcase.]
[Which is how much more than cargo would have been?]
[Well, yes it's more, but only by about twenty percent. And much less hassle. The guy on customs when we got here was a bit surprised about one person travelling with four suitcases.]
[I thought it was going to be a dozen.]
[Well, they're big ones, but it just looked that way because pastor Frank and his wife brought the boxes Yvette had organised everything in.]
May arrived just as Sarah got the last piece of luggage out of the transport.
“Youngsters, say 'hello' to May, my right-hand woman and president-spokeswoman of the Interplanetary Council of Truthsayer Associations. May, let me introduce Victoria, Mick, Jim and last but not least, Yvette.”
“I wish you wouldn't wave that title around so much, Sarah. It makes people nervous.”
“You're an important woman, they need to know to be respectful.”
“Well we'd better help get our bags on the trolley, hadn't we?” Mick said, picking up a couple of the cases and loading them onto it.
Not wanting to be out-done, Jim offered “Shall I push it, when we're done?”
“No!” everyone said at the same time. When he'd been pushing the trolley at the airport, things hadn't gone well.
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RESTORATION HIGH SCHOOL
11:43AM
“Hello, hello? Mrs Winthorpe?” the receptionist said into the phone. The line had suddenly gone dead. Well, not dead, there was a curious warbling tone.
“You have been re-connected to Internal Security.” a dull, automated voice said. “If your call was social in nature, please disconnect now. If your call was regarding a future booking with EasyTrip Transports, be aware that EasyTrip Transports may not be able to fulfil any promises made to you or supply you with any future service. If your call was regarding a past trip, please try again when the situation is less critical. No management, personnel or customers within EasyTrip transports are currently able to respond to your call. If this call is in connection with an emergency situation please press one. If your call is in connection with an urgent situation that cannot wait more than an estimated one hour, please press two. If you need to hear this message again, please wait. Message repeats.”
She pressed one.
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EASYTRIP TRANSPORTS, 11:45AM
“Sorry Maam, I need to ask you to go back into the building,” the man in the immaculate suit said. He had his stunner drawn. “But... I need to take my son to the doctor's,” said the worried mother, “I got a call from his school, but it cut off in the middle of the call.”
“Communications black-out, Maam. Please return to the building, immediately. The school will have been notified.”
“But...”
“Until more agents have arrived, I'm under instructions to stun anyone who exits the building and will not return to it. Please, Maam, now.”
“What's happening?”
“Activity that might be terrorist in nature, madam. You have ten seconds to return to the building before you are stunned. If you seek to run you will be stunned, or shot by a marksman on one of the roofs nearby.”
Shaking like a leaf, she went back in the building, wondering what would happen about her son's suspected concussion.
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RESTORATION HIGH SCHOOL, 11:55AM
“Hello, I understand there's a boy here with suspected concussion?” a thin woman dressed in rather muddy camouflage said. “I'm with Internal Security, sorry about the outfit, we got called in from a training exercise. My name's Pricilla.”
“Yes, urm. This way. What's happening?”
“Option one, someone did something very stupid because they're stupid. Option two, someone did something very stupid because they were bribed or otherwise coerced to by a terrorist or spy. Option three, there's a spy or terrorist at EasyTrip.”
Stolen story; please report.
“The new transport company?”
“Yes. Don't expect any of their transports to be moving in a while. They're all going tobe on automatic only.”
“Aren't they normally?”
“Normally there's an overseer who can check up on them, tell them to refuel, and so on. Or who responds to emergencies.” She bent down to the boy, “you hit your head?”
“On the goalposts. Are you with the army?”
“No, I'm with Internal Security. Your mother works at a company where someone's done something stupid. Probably because they didn't read what the law says. So far no one's been hurt, except you. How do you feel?”
“My head hurts.”
“Not surprised, where you hit it or somewhere else?”
“Really hurts, all over.”
She flashed a light in his eyes. “Hmm. OK, just to be safe, you're going to the IHM. It's nearer than the hospital. Are you feeling sick?”
“A bit.”
“Can you walk?”
“I don't know. I couldn't earlier.”
“OK, young man, if you need to lean on me, do. I'm not as fragile as I look. Ever had a ride in an armoured car?”
“I'm going to be sick.”
“No problem. It washes off with the mud.” Someone answered her wrist unit. “Is that you Ivan? Who let you near a phone? Pris here, long time no chat. I've got an emergency case for your beloved. ETA five minutes or less. Kid hit his head, eyes dilated, nausea and his whole head really hurts.”
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ARTICLE, NEW REPUBLICAN POST, 4.30PM FRIDAY MORNING, 17TH JAN 2296
Not so Easy Trips in Restoration by Caroline Wyatt
Moderate levels of travel chaos have erupted in the city of Restoration after Internal Security were called to the offices of EasyTrip Transports just before lunchtime. The exact nature of the crime has not yet been made known, but a member of the Internal Security was heard to say: 'Someone has done something really stupid, either because they're stupid, because they're under pressure from a terrorist or a spy, or because they are a terrorist or spy.' The full-blown anti-terrorist response blocked all incoming and outgoing calls from the offices and environs of EasyTrip Transports and placed all their vehicles on full automatic.
For most transports, full automatic means they get where they were going but you cannot alter the selected routing, or pay on account. Sadly for EasyTrip Transport customers, the vehicles are not themselves fitted with full traffic detection and identification intelligence, but only object detection and collision avoidance technology. This reduces the cost of the vehicle by approximately 15%, however it means they are unable to drive safely without a data connection to the company's central computers, in order to identify the speed, identification and distance to the things that the vehicle sees. Thus 'full automatic' meant, 'drive to edge of road at a crawl and ask passengers to exit'.
Customers who have suffered physical, financial or consequential loss as a result of this cost-cutting decision by EasyTrip management, (which was never made clear in any contract of carriage) are currently forming a class-action lawsuit to convince the management they've done something else stupid. Quite which act of stupidity will cost the company more is yet to be revealed.
Trade in EasyTrip shares was suspended as part of the anti-terror operation, but not before plummeting to 80% of their previous value as some major investors, disappointed in their trip ending so abruptly, and suspecting that the operating licence had been revoked, instructed their stockbrokers to sell at any price.
According to a vehicle maintenance worker at EasyTrip, the directors of were unable to comment, as they were 'in discussions with some smartly dressed people'.
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OUTSIDE THE PALACE, RESTORED KINGDOM, SATURDAY, 18TH JAN, 2296
“Caroline Wyatt, journalist,” the young woman announced as she arrived at the security gate to the palace “I've got an interview with his highness, Prince Luke.”
“I see that name on the list, yes, Miss. Do you have some form of identification?”
“Urm... I don't have a full I.D crystal.” It had been partly rebellion, and partly the fact that she didn't go out much. “Urm... University library card?” she suggested, glancing at her mother who'd accompanied her. Her mother just smiled encouragingly.
“That would be better than nothing,” the Security officer said, accepting the document. Not much, Caroline knew, it didn't even have her picture on it.
“OK, that's good as far as it goes. Now, I need a little more identification...” the Security officer said. “Is this lady is your mother, or someone else who could vouch for you?”
“I could, but feel free to pretend I'm not here,” Catherine said. “I'm just along to watch her prove herself to herself, if that's OK.”
“Mum! Doesn't that count as wasting the officer's time?”
“Were you told to bring me or dad?” Catherine asked.
“No. They probably assumed I had an I.D. though.”
“Does Security make that sort of mistake, officer?” Catherine asked the woman.
“No, Maam,”
“So I'm not really needed, am I, officer?”
“No, Maam. We can proceed as though you weren't here. And it doesn't count as wasting my time, miss. Making sure only the right people get let through is what I'm here for.”
“Urm, I could quote from my application letter?” Caroline suggested.
“That might be an additional factor, yes. Plus lots of personal details.”
“And I'll have to go through this sort of thing again if I come back for another interview sometime?”
“You think you might? Not if you're willing to submit biometric data, no. We'd be able to just give you a repeat iris scan then, and bring up what you told us this time,”
Caroline sighed, “If you've got personal details and biometric data, would you also be able to issue me with an I.D. crystal?”
“If you submit a DNA sample, yes, that would be entirely possible.”
“I guess I can't stay out of the system forever. I imagine it could save me a lot of time in the future.”
“It could indeed, Caroline. We'll have to do that in the office.”
“I'll leave you in Bella's care then shall I, Caroline? Send my best wishes to Albert and Eliza.”
“Was that addressed to me or your daughter, Catherine?” Bella, on gate duty rather than her normal post of Royal Protection officer asked.
“Oh, both. Why are you on gate duty anyway, Bella?”
“Not many people plan to ask Luke if he feels like a social parasite.”
“You actually left that in, Caroline?” Catherine asked, “I'm shocked!”
“Didn't you say I could?”
“I said if you really wanted to. As in I'd advise against it.”
“Ooops. I didn't mean to be offensive.”
“I'll let you explain that to him yourself, young lady,” Bella said, “Now, if you'll come to the office?”
“Was he very offended?”
“You'll have to ask him.”
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THE PALACE, SAT, 18TH JAN 2296
“Most interviews I ever saw Mum do were question and answer sessions,” Heather said, looking at the arguing pair in the next door room.
“They're having fun, aren't they?” Eliza said.
“Enormously.”
“I don't think Luke is ever going to forget this.”
“No.” Heather agreed, “Did you say you know her mother?”
“Both parents. I first met young Caroline there when she was almost three. Very shy.”
“I think she's got past that now,” Heather commented.
“Not normally, according to Catherine. When she was three I shocked her mum by suggesting an arranged marriage with Matthew, mostly as a joke. But she was more interested in playing with Luke, probably because he wasn't walking yet.”
“Have they met since?”
“Once, I think. Yes, when he was about ten, he kept on pulling her hair, just to irritate her. What do you see?”
“I see quite a lot going on between them, at all sorts of levels. Some of that is just play-acting, you know? Some isn't though, there's quite a lot of genuine annoyance.”
“I wondered, but he's banned me from peeking.” Eliza said. “Do you think I should intervene?”
“I think I will,” Heather stood up, and stuck her head around the glass dividing door. “Hi, I know you're both having fun, but I expect Caroline does need some answers fit to print.”
“You're Heather?” Caroline asked. “Can I interview you, too?”
“Not the way you're interviewing Luke, no.” Heather laughed.
“This isn't an interview,” Luke said, “this is us expressing our extreme dislike for one another.”
“Dislike? No, I don't think that's a word I'd use. Can you keep the volume down and get to the real issues? I'm trying to discuss some things with your mother, Luke.”
“Real issues?” Caroline asked.
“You did have some prepared questions didn't you? Or are you actually here on false pretenses, and just wanted to come and try to pin the blame Luke for everything that's wrong in the world? What's he ever done to you?
Except pull your hair when he was ten, I hear. Surely you're not still harbouring a grudge.” Caroline blushed.
Luke said, “Sorry, I shouldn't have pulled your hair. Will you forgive me for being an irritating brat?”
“I can quote you on that, right?” she said, with a twinkle of delight in her eyes.
Luke looked at her for a while, obviously playing with some ideas. Heather was right, crossing verbal swords with Caroline had been fun, mostly. “One condition.”
“You want to approve the final version?”
“Isn't that called censorship?”
“Then what's the condition?”
“I interview you, next weekend, as a reply article.”
“You want me to come back next weekend?”
“Fair's fair: you're interviewing me in my parent's living room, I'll interview you in your parent's living room.”
“I don't know if that's fair at all. I think it'd be much more like an invasion of privacy.”
“Why?”
“Careful how you answer, Caroline.” Heather said, as she left, “Remember, if he's not censoring your article, then you don't get to censor his.”
“My parents have to agree, and I get to reply,” she declared.
“You want to have a reply to my reply?”
“Yes,” Caroline agreed.
“Then I get a reply to yours? This could go on for a while. But I suppose we'll run out of topics eventually,” Luke said.
“I'm not committing my every Saturday to interviewing you or being interviewed for the forseeable future.”
“Of course not.”
“So, is there a limit?”
“You're going to publish in the New Republican Post?”
“You'd rather the Royalist, I suppose?”
“I hadn't thought of it. If we wrote for both it could get really surreal.”
“All the Royalist readers would assume it was some new way of announcing you were about to propose to me or something.”
“No offence, Caroline, but I don't think that's very likely.”
“No. So, my first question, which will no doubt please Royalist readers, 'Your brother has just launched out on what looks like the giddy road to matrimony and trying to continue the unbroken line of succession. Did you ever expect he would find someone to put up with his annoying habits?'”
“I understand that love covers over a multitude of sins, and that the human race would have died out long ago if it didn't. So I'm not entirely surprised.”
“Heather Findhorn-Bunting seems to be a regular visitor to the palace now, are you surprised at the speed things seem to be going?”
“I think Heather's visits to the palace are far more related to her discussions with my grandparents and the rest of the Government about treaties and other things connected to the Research Lab than spending time with my brother. She's going to be here almost all day today, for instance, and he's not due back until late.”
“You accepted that your brother has annoying habits. Would you like to list them?”
“I think we all have annoying habits. One of the ones I used to find most annoying in Matthew is that he'd insist on having the radio on when he was writing essays, and then leave it on when he left the room.”
“You prefer to work in peace and quiet?”
“I find it hard to think when there's a lot of noise about.”
“Does that explain your poor ability to argue coherently earlier?”
“Thank you for agreeing with me that 'noise' is a good description of the quality of your arguments. Or sorry, did you only mean their volume?”
“Other than pulling girls hair and turning interview questions into insults, do you have other annoying habits yourself?”
“Some people find it annoying that I tend to apologise for having been an annoying brat at age ten lots. Other people seem to find it hard to accept apologies. Would you find it annoying that I sometimes answer insults with insults and questions with questions?”
“Slightly. One of my pre-presented questions was do you feel like a social parasite.”
“Yes, it was.”
“Would you like to answer that question?”
“I think before I answer I'd like to point out that the question could be taken in two ways. If you're presuming that I'm a parasite and asking if I'm social or unsociable, then the answer to your question is no, I'm more of a private person and on the unsociable scale of things. But I think I'd wonder why you're so insistent on insulting me, when we've only met twice, once when I was a baby and the other time when you flicked peas at me all lunchtime and I pulled your hair once for every pea. If you're taking the term 'social parasite' as a whole, meaning a parasite on society. I think the normally accepted definition a parasite on society these days is someone who has never paid any taxes and lives off state benefits rather than work. As I do work, and do pay taxes on my income, then the answer is again, no.”
“Can you tell me about your work?”
“I have three things that constitute my work. Sadly only one of them actually pays. One is that I'm a student. The other is that for the past couple of years I've had a part-time job as a pizza chef; for lots of reasons I can't publish where that is. Thirdly, I help with what is sometimes called the family business. That might mean just providing meals while my parents and grandparents are busy dealing with whatever this week's crisis is, thinking through ideas or it might mean providing input on laws or treaties.”
“Could you expand on what you mean by 'this week's crisis?'”
“Unexpected events happen, some of which might have international repercussions or national security implications. My experience is that they tend to happen on average once a week.”
“So, for example, Heather Findhorn-Bunting maybe coming up with a method of faster-than-light travel would count as a crisis?”
“No. But a few weeks ago, for instance — you might need to cut this — someone spotted some electronic bugs being distributed in every watering can in the palace. That does count.”
“What?”
“Not aimed at the palace, or even specifically this country, as far as we know, but as far as we know, spotted here first. Quiet international outrage in progress, so like I say, you might need to cut this out.”
“And your attitude is, there's a problem, how can I help?”
“Yes.”
“Right. Urm. What happens if you're in the middle of an essay crisis and there's some kind of international or security crisis?”
“I try to get my essays done as soon as they're set. That's called learning from Matthew's mistakes.”
“What are you studying?”
“Electronic-microcircuits, history and politics.”
“All at the same time?”
“It's a flexible programme. Electronics because its useful to know whats happening in the world, history and politics because well, they're useful in other ways too. Like debating with people.”
“You like to debate, then?”
“It's one of my annoying habits.”
“I thought you liked arguing.”
“Don't you?”
“Hey, you're interviewing me next week!”
“I thought you might have forgotten.”
“Thank you, prince Luke, for taking the time for this interview,” Caroline said, turning off the recorder, and pulled a face. He'd totally ruined the article she'd been planning to write.
“You look a bit annoyed,”
“I am.”
“Something I said?”
“Yes. You've never mentioned mentioned that pizza-chef job in other interviews.”
“No one's asked so broadly. It's always been what are you studying, or what's your role in the palace, that sort of thing.”
She looked at her notes. “Oh bother.”
“Another Problem?”
“I skipped a whole page of question ideas.”
“Next interview?”
“I think it'll have to be, they need re-writing.”
“I'm looking forward to next week, then.”
“Why?”
“Because I get to ask you what went wrong for you in this one.”
“Cruel man.”
“You were planning to portray me as some kind of useless slug, weren't you?”
“I was planning to finish my article suggesting you got a job, OK? You've got one. At present I think it's only the Royalist that's going to want to run my write-up.”
“Well, maybe you should draw on our little altercation before the interview then?”
“You're laughing at me.”
“I need to have something to interview you about, or there's not much fun in it, is there?”
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CAROLINE'S HOME
“I can't do it, mum.”
“What?”
“Write the article. Caroline said, “You were right.”
“About what?”
“That he's not a waste of space. And you know the worst bit? I agreed he could interview me write a reply.”
“So?”
“He has had a paid job for the last year, as well as his civil duties as well as being a student. And he's younger than I am. So what sort of pot calling the kettle black is it for me to all him a parasite? We half-joked about having my article and his reply article jointly published in the Post and the Royalist. Right now, He's going to have to keep the Post readers happy. Doesn't seem likely.”
“Joint publication with the Royalist?” Catherine was surprised.
“Stupid idea.”
“No it's not. Work on it. I'll make some phone calls.”
“Mum!”
“The Royalist loves personal reactions to Royalty, love. And just think how the Royalist will react to a reply article from him.”
Our readers love a bit of argument, Eliza said you'd had a lovely one of those.
“Well, yes, we did.”
“What about.”
“It was stupid.”
“Go on.”
“He offered to pull my hair, 'for old times sake'.”
“Did you have any peas?”
“Of course I did, mum.”
“But you didn't actually flick them at him?”
“No.”
“Praise God for some mercies, then. Go write your article.”
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