Holloway took a slug of his beer. Sullivan waited patiently.
“You remember why I was disbarred,” Holloway said.
“For punching that executive in the courtroom,” Sullivan said.
“Because he was laughing at those parents in pain,” Holloway said. “All those families were torn up to hell, and Stern felt comfortable enough to laugh. Because he knew at the end of the day our lawyers were good enough to get him and us out of trouble. He knew he’d never see the inside of a prison cell. I felt someone needed to send him a message, and I was in the right position to do just that.”
“And this relates to our current situation how?” Sullivan asked.
“ZaraCorp was planning to steamroll over the fuzzys,” Holloway said. “It was planning to deny the fuzzys their potential right to personhood on no more basis than because it could, and because the fuzzys were in the way of expanding their profit margins. And you’re right, Mark. I stood to profit quite handsomely myself from the whole business. It was in my interest to go along.”
“Very much in your interest,” Sullivan said.
“Yes,” Holloway agreed. “But at the end of it I have to live with myself. It was wrong of me to punch Stern in the courtroom, but I didn’t regret it then and I don’t now. ZaraCorp might eventually show that the fuzzys aren’t sentient, but if they do, at least they’ll do it honestly, and not just because I went along with them and made it easy for them. Maybe what I did today wasn’t the smart thing to do, but if nothing else, ZaraCorp isn’t laughing at the fuzzys anymore.”
Sullivan nodded and took a drink of his own beer. “That’s very admirable,” he said.
“Thanks,” Holloway said.
“Don’t thank me yet,” Sullivan said. “It’s admirable, but I also wonder if you’re not completely full of shit, Jack.”
“You don’t believe me,” Holloway said.
“I’d like to,” Sullivan said. “You talk a good game, and it’s clear your lawyer brain has never completely turned off. You’re good at presenting a scenario in which you always end up, if not the good guy, at least the guy with understandable motives. You’re persuasive. But I’m a lawyer too, Jack. I’m immune to your charms. And I think underneath your rationalizations there are other things going on. For example, your story about why you punched Stern in that courtroom.”
“What about it?” Holloway asked.
“Maybe you did do it because you couldn’t stand the sight of him, or the idea of him laughing at those parents,” Sullivan said. “But on a whim, I also checked the financial records of your former law firm. Turns out that two weeks before you punched Stern, you received a performance bonus of five million credits. That’s more than eight times your previous highest performance bonus.”
“It was my share of a patent infringement settlement,” Holloway said. “ Alestria versus PharmCorp Holdings. And others got bigger bonuses out of that than I did.”
“I know, I read up on the bonuses,” Sullivan said. “But I also know most of the big bonuses were paid out a couple months before yours was. Yours is interestingly timed. And it’s enough for a corporate staff lawyer to contemplate disbarment and the loss of his livelihood with a certain cavalier lack of concern.”
“You’re just speculating now,” Holloway said.
“It’s not just speculation,” Sullivan said. “I also know the North Carolina attorney general’s office looked into it. Contrary to what you just said, Jack, the general consensus was that Stern and Alestria were on the way to losing that case. And you’ve said yourself that the reason you were disbarred is because everyone believed you intended to precipitate a mistrial. In this case, everyone may be right.”
“The AG’s office couldn’t prove anything about that bonus,” Holloway said, irritated now.
“I’m aware of that too,” Sullivan said. “You wouldn’t be here if they could have. But as you well know, ‘not proven’ is not the same as ‘disproven.’”
“The difference being that I don’t have anything to gain by revealing the sentience of the fuzzys,” Holloway said. “I didn’t have to do it, but I did.”
“Yes, you did,” Sullivan said. “And in doing so you forced the judge to order more study—which will force ZaraCorp into an immediate strategic review of its resource allocation here on Zara Twenty-three. I wouldn’t be entirely surprised if sometime very soon it’s announced that nearly all exploitation resources on the planet are going to be focused on that sunstone seam of yours, Jack. Which will make you rich, fast, no matter what happens with the fuzzys. And that’s a fact I’m very ambivalent about.”
“You have a problem with me getting rich?” Holloway asked.
“Getting rich? No,” Sullivan said. “But maneuvering to become super-rich? Yes. I do have a problem with it. Because I feel responsible for it. I’m the one who mentioned the ‘more study’ option to you and Isabel. It didn’t occur to me when I mentioned to you that you could still make millions under that option that you might find that amount insufficient, and find a way to maneuver yourself into more.”
“It’s an interesting theory,” Holloway said.
“I thought you might like it,” Sullivan said. “Don’t misunderstand me, Jack. In one sense I’m pleased you did what you did, for whatever reason you did it. No matter what they told you, Isabel’s professional reputation wouldn’t have survived the accusation that she was taken in by a prank. You would have killed her career. Unlike your previous situation, she has no multimillion-credit bonus cushion for when her career craters. So whether for your own selfish reasons or not, you did the right thing. Isabel is never going to hear me suggest you did it for any other reason than vindicating her. Fair enough?”
Holloway nodded.
“Good,” Sullivan said. “But there’s something else going on here that I think you need to be aware of. Something I know you didn’t think about. And that’s the future of the fuzzys themselves.”
“What about it?” Holloway asked.
“How do you feel about the fuzzys, Jack?” Sullivan said.
“I just showed evidence of their sentience,” Holloway said. “I think that’s an indicator.”
“Not with you, it isn’t,” Sullivan said. “I just spent a lot of time pointing out that you have a funny way of being amazingly self-interested. It serves your purpose to suggest the fuzzys are sapient. You don’t get any credit for it if it’s just another tool in the box for your long con game against ZaraCorp.”
“It’s not,” Holloway said.
Sullivan held his hand up. “Don’t,” he said. “Just turn off the bullshit for the moment, Jack. Turn off that lawyer brain of yours and the thinking three steps ahead and the self-absorption and that overriding love of money you have, and answer me seriously and honestly. Do you actually carewhat happens to these fuzzys, or don’t you?”
Holloway took a drink from his beer, reconsidered, and finished all of it. “Leaving aside everything else?” he asked Sullivan. “Leaving aside all your theories and rationales and possible explanations for my actions?”
“Yes,” Sullivan said. “Leaving aside all that for now.”
“Between you and me,” Holloway said.
“Between you and me,” Sullivan said.
“Then yes,” Holloway said. “Yes, I care what happens to the fuzzys. I likethem. I don’t want anything bad to happen to them.”
“Do you think they’re sentient?” Sullivan asked.
“Does it really matter?” Holloway asked.
“You said you were going to stop with the bullshit,” Sullivan said.
“I am,” Holloway said. “The no bullshit answer is that right now I don’t particularly care if they are proved sentient or not. Maybe Isabel is right, that they’re people, and that as people they have their rights. Maybe it’s not right for me to hope to make some money off this planet before that’s determined, but that’s my own issue to deal with. In the end, though, whether or not they’re judged to be people, the fact is, if finding them sentient works to their advantage in the long run, that will make me happy.”