Kirst paused and sighed.
“I think I see what’s coming,” I said. Now that I thought of it, there was a slight resemblance between Barbara and Arden Kirst. But I hadn’t noticed the connection because I hadn’t been looking for it.
Kirst went on. “Did you know that even in our age of advanced science and technology, there isn’t a foolproof contraceptive?”
I nodded.
“She didn’t want the baby. She insisted on an abortion. And Yoobie agreed with her.” Kirst’s eyes grew hard and cold. “It was at this point, I think, that my infatuation with our government finally withered and died. And the relationship I had with this woman quickly turned acrimonious.”
“But you fought it. The abortion, you held it up with lawsuits. Right?”
Kirst nodded. “Until I exhausted all avenues. Oh, there was no chance that I’d succeed. Yoobie would see to that. The fetus was doomed. Or would have been, had it not been for me.”
“You delayed it long enough for the fetus to live outside the mother.”
“Yes. It’s not that I’m against abortion—when both parents agree. But that child was just as much mine as it was hers.” It paused. “I’m not entirely sure why I wanted it so badly. It’s hard to explain. I guess I wanted someone to love and someone who would love me back. Real love, not the kind of love that adults have for each other. Not conditional love, but the unconditional kind of love that bonds parent and child.” It sighed. “Or so I thought.”
“How much did you bribe the doctor who was supposed to perform the abortion?”
“Nothing. I didn’t have to. Yoobie assigned the doctor and determined the course of action, as it does for all health issues, but fate smiled upon me. I knew the doctor. More importantly, I knew he had a habit of making some money on the side by writing bogus prescriptions. Some of my students had gotten into trouble because they had been caught abusing these drugs, and I discovered the source. It happens a lot. I suppose if Yoobie would pay doctors more, this sort of thing would happen less.”
“Okay, you didn’t pay him, you threatened him. Either way, you—I mean Arden Kirst—got your hands on a baby that couldn’t exist. At least not legally. The mother was anesthetized, probably after the doctor started talking about ‘complications,’ but the operation wasn’t what she’d expected. She never found out, did she?”
Kirst shook his head. “I couldn’t tell her, or the child would be… I don’t know what would have happened.”
“Don’t you think that was a little unethical?” I paused. What good would it do to lecture an AI?
“It was a lot unethical,” admitted Kirst. “I’m not proud of it. But the whole damn system is unethical. A monstrosity of lies, incompetence, tyranny—”
“I know, I know. I’m on your side. I’m an Op, remember?”
“She was beautiful. You should have seen her. Little toes, fingers, a nose so small I was scared she couldn’t breathe. When I held her in my arms, I knew I had made the right decision. And she was healthy; she overcame the prematurity. And she’s as smart as they come. Smarter than even her mother and father put together!”
“You had to find the means to get Barbara—what’s her real name, by the way?”
“I called her Eve.” Kirst shrugged. “I thought about calling her Andromeda, after the galaxy, but I got caught up in the whole mystery of her birth. And it was a struggle to support her when Yoobie keeps such thorough track of every citizen. I couldn’t have done it by myself.”
“This was when you joined the Opposition?”
“Exactly. They didn’t trust me at first. They saw my S.R.C.B. and the young age at which I’d earned it, and they probably dug up old essays I’d written for the school paper. Do you know that I once seriously advocated the public flogging of anybody who takes Uncle Barry’s name in vain?”
“Extremism will do that to you. Warp your mind, I mean.”
“Anyway, they told me to go stick my head up Uncle Barry’s arse. But then I showed them my child. I told them to find her ID, if they could. Find out who she was. They took DNA, RNA, protein samples, everything. Nothing was in the databases. She couldn’t exist—but she did. I told them the story often enough that they finally believed it. And they helped. We got a rotating set of numbers, kept building new files, new backgrounds. It was a real pain. I also had to hide the child, which wasn’t too difficult because Cleo divorced me the minute she found out about the lawsuits I’d filed and so forth. So I could live in peace with my daughter, even though I couldn’t admit having her. Schooled her myself. And then I met Nadia.”
“Nadia knows about Eve, I assume, even though she didn’t tell me.”
Kirst shook her head.
“No? You’re kidding. You never told her? That’s—never mind. You didn’t tell me either, and you probably avoided telling anyone else you didn’t have to. But you got hold of the old number of Nadia’s daughter, along with enough data to construct a file in the system that could answer almost all the queries consistently.”
“That’s right. I mean the Ops in my cell did. Our cell, I guess I should say, since you belong to it too. They’re much better with computer systems than I am. I love Nadia, by the way. In case you’re wondering.”
“I’m not. I mean, I have other priorities at the moment. Like staying alive and out of rehab. And finding out just what kind of machine you are—and what Arden was working on.”
Kirst’s eyes brightened. “Emotions. The secret to intelligence, Ellam. And—”
Someone banged on the door.
I froze. Helpless and unarmed—Yoobie threw you into rehab if you even hinted you had a desire for a gun—I was trapped. Had Kirst’s AI set me up?
A voice came from outside. “Hello? Is anybody there? We’d like to hold our meeting now.”
Kirst frowned. “Why don’t people follow the rules? They’re supposed to use the computer to reserve a specific time to use the conference room.”
The voice grew more insistent. “Hello?”
“They’re probably not going to give up,” said Kirst. “We’d better let them in. Just tell them you were downloading some data.”
I inserted my comm into the outlet. “That’s just what I’d like to do—download data. Send me Kirst’s lab notes.”
“May I ask what you intend—”
“Do it,” I said. “Now.”
My comm’s input light started blinking.
“While you’re still here, I need to tell you something,” said Kirst. “I don’t want to… it’s hard for a father to admit—”
“Hello? Who’s in there?”
“Just a minute!” I yelled.
“My daughter killed me,” said Kirst.
I gaped. “She what?”
The door rattled.
“She’s dangerous,” said Kirst, “so be careful. We’ll talk more later. Just watch out while you’re on campus. Good luck!” The image disappeared.
I recovered from the shock and opened the door. “Sorry, be done in a second,” I said calmly, as if nothing had happened. You learn how to do this as an Op or you’ll find yourself babbling incoherently in rehab. “Come on in.”
A dozen people walked inside, some of them giving me curious glances. But the screen in the center of the room displayed “authorized visitor’s download,” which seemed to allay their suspicion. When the comm light stopped blinking I unhooked it and left.
I spent the whole night in the rental car, parked at the institute’s garage. The car was too narrow for me to stretch out in the back seat; the driver seat reclined, though not all the way, so I ended up with a stiff back and a sore neck. And not enough sleep, for two nights in a row. I woke up around dawn feeling like hell. Déja vu.