Paul Hardy - The Last Man on Earth Club

“I see,” said Henni. “And what about security at the centre?”

Pellawanatha Fedissba answered — she ran Facilities for the Refugee Service. “Sensor coverage has already been stepped up, but as long as the centre is as close as it is to Hub Metro, there’s a limit to how much we can do.”

“I’d like to consider a move, if that’s possible,” said Henni.

“Is that necessary?” I asked.

“Ms. Fedissba, if you can prepare a shortlist of alternative sites?” Pellawanatha replied that she most certainly could.

I had to speak up for the group. “Ms. Ardassian, I have to object. The group has just settled in. They’re comfortable, they’re making progress. If they have to move when we’ve only just started, it could have a serious impact on therapy.”

Henni thought about it. “How serious?”

“I’ve managed to get them to trust me. I need that to be able to do my job. If they have to move for reasons they don’t understand, I might lose that trust.”

Henni looked to Mykl Teoth, who nodded. She looked back at me. “Very well. We’ll make preparations but postpone the move until it becomes absolutely necessary.”

“Thank you.”

“And that will be my decision, Dr. Singh.”

“Yes, of course.”

“Do you mind if I ask Dr. Singh a question?” Eremis Ai represented the Interversal Criminal Tribunal, or at least the placeholder body who were gathering casefiles until the IU finally decided whether or not to activate the ICT.

“Go ahead,” said Henni.

Eremis turned to me. “Are you absolutely certain Ms. Li’Oul was looking for the people who committed genocide on her planet?”

“That seems to be the case,” I said.

“Do you think she’ll ask for assistance?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think she trusts us at the moment.”

“Has she said anything about who she suspects?”

“I can’t talk about what we might have discussed in therapy.”

“No, of course… I think we would have to interview her, though. Which means the matter will appear in the public record, at least in headline form.”

“Do you really need to do that?” asked Henni.

“Yes. We do. If she’s investigating a genocide, we have to gather testimony.”

“So this is going to come out whether we like it or not, is that what you’re saying?”

“We’re required to build cases—”

“Like the case for your own job,” muttered Koggan.

Eremis ignored him. “We are required to build cases, even if we can’t do anything else.”

Henni sat back in her chair. “So. Thanks to all this, the existence of the therapy group is likely to become public knowledge. I’m sure that’ll make Ms. Isnia very happy, but for the rest of us it’s going to be a problem, isn’t it? Well, at least we’ll have a little time to prepare. Does anyone else have any questions for Dr. Singh?”

“We’ll need her to make a statement,” said Koggan.

“Does that have to happen now?”

“No. We’ll be in touch.”

“In that case, Dr. Singh, I’ll ask you to leave us while we discuss this further. I’m sure your patients need you more than we do at the moment.”

“Thank you,” I said. Henni touched a control on her pad, and the images of the committee members faded away, leaving me alone in the room. I breathed a sigh of relief; I’d feared far worse. At least I was still in charge of the group.

A few days later, Security finally allowed me to talk to Liss. Since physical presence is important in therapy and they wouldn’t allow me to simulate it with a remote session, I found myself heading to Hub Metro and the headquarters of Hub Security.

Hub is relatively secure by its very nature. The portals to other universes are in orbit, most of them at the L1 point between the Earth and Moon — making it easy to control who and what gets in and out of the universe. Grainger Station has its own separate security force, so Hub Security mainly deals with the everyday policing of a city with a low population density, many of whom are diplomats whose misdeeds are the responsibility of the intelligence and security sections of the Diplomatic Service. The greatest challenges to law and order are biodiversity offences, and the perennial demonstrations against artificial intelligence kept going by certain species who have axes to grind.

There was a demonstration going on in front of Security Headquarters while I was flown in to see Liss: about fifty or sixty angry humans with placards denouncing AIs as godless massacre machines, and demanding something be done about all the crimes they had committed or might theoretically commit. It wasn’t a serious issue for Security. The demonstration was only there so they could get the famous building in the back of the screen news coverage.

The headquarters of Hub Security was not a utilitarian, ugly squat of brick or stone, but a minor masterpiece of architecture, looking like a circle held on its side so it formed an ‘O’ from a distance. Hub attracts the finest architects from across the multiverse, because it provides them with an opportunity to show off their work to the widest possible audience — thus enabling the IU to get the work at a very reasonable discount. Hub Metro is littered with bold statements in glass and stone and wood and aerogel supported by pressor fields. In this case, the architect decided a circular building was a symbol of strength and security, and then turned it on its side.

The ‘O’ was partially buried, and holding cells were kept in the underground portion. Those parts of the building that had to act as a police station were designed with a greater concession to practicality, but (this being Hub), even the holding cells were comfortable, well lit, and really quite pleasant to stay in, if you ignored the fact that they were also designed to contain people with posthuman enhancements all the way up to military status and beyond.

I met Liss in one of the interview rooms designed for dangerous prisoners. At first, it seemed as though we would be in the same room. But there was an invisible layer of composite carbonglass, plastic and energy dividing it, seemingly running through the table in the middle. I entered through one door and sat down. An impervious robotic warder opened the far door and Liss walked in.

The group was gathered in the usual circle, waiting for me and Veofol to arrive. Elsbet had joined them for the first time, sitting as far away from Iokan as she could. The clothes she’d picked were those of a soldier: olive-drab canvas jacket, combat trousers, paratrooper boots, and a cap that hid Katie’s cropped hair. She looked a little nervous, but defiant with it.

Olivia eyed her suspiciously. “So you’re up and about, then,” she observed.

“Yeah. Who are you?”

Olivia replied in her rudest tone. “I’m the old bitch. Who are you?”

Elsbet was not to be outdone. “I’m Sergeant Go Fuck Yourself.”

Olivia almost smiled. “Huh.”

“Olivia’s not very polite, I’m afraid” said Iokan.

“Oh, you’re Olivia? The one with all the dead people?” asked Elsbet.

“That’s right. I hear you two made friends pretty quick.” She eyed Elsbet and Iokan.

Elsbet snapped back: “Nothing happened. If it had, I’d have ripped his nuts off.”

Olivia did smile this time. “Serve him right!”

“I can assure you there’s nothing between us…” said Iokan, though no one paid any attention.

“So what’s your story, Sergeant Go Fuck Yourself?” asked Olivia.

“That’s my business.”

“Hah! You’ve got a hope. There’s nothing you can keep secret here, girl. They’ll have it out of you and expect you to say thanks afterwards. Might as well say it here and now and get it over with.” Elsbet kept her mouth shut with a sneer. “Well? What are you? Come on, spit it out! I haven’t got all day!”