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Thea took the call from Hu and tried to make sense of Hu’s expression, or rather what seemed a deliberate attempt to lack expression. “I’ve got a curve ball to throw you.”
Thea dropped into the position of a catcher behind the plate. “Ready and waiting.”
Hu chuckled, then pulled her face back to neutrality. “We just got a settlement offer.”
Thea fumbled for her chair and sat down heavily. Hu had at some point mentioned the possibility of settlement, but for some reason she could not now reconstruct, Thea had assumed that the time for such compromise had come and gone. Could all this preparation and anticipation end, so abruptly, in something other than a courtroom battle?
“Thea? Are you ready to hear the details?”
Thea shook off the sensation of paralysis. “Please.”
Hu glanced down at what must be a list and started ticking off points with her finger. “LiveAfter would amend its contracts to let new clients opt out of ‘the introduction of new political activities.’ Those clients who are currently part of the plaintiff class would be offered the chance to be reset to their original condition—but there’s nothing here about all the memories they’ve accumulated in the meantime. We could probably dicker about that—and about the wording of the opt-out language.”
Thea took a deep breath. “Anything else?”
Hu smiled in a notably humorless manner. “Nondisclosure. No more talk, to other stored folk or the outside world, about what LiveAfter pulled. LiveAfter would announce that they’d settled the case with no admission of any misconduct. That’s probably what matters most to them. They won’t budge on it.”
Thea shut her eyes, trying to follow the path this settlement would place before them. “What about all the people who already know? Max, and my parents, and you, and Esther and Dane—and the guardian ad litem?”
“Muzzled. And the guardian ad litem would be dismissed.”
Thea recoiled. “We can’t let that happen!—at least, not until we had a chance to see whether they kept their end of the bargain.”
“Agreed. But what about the rest?”
Thea found herself overcome by the overwhelming, acute, painful longing for Max, for his arms tight around her, and the scent of his skin. “How long do we have to decide? And have you talked to any of the other plaintiffs?”
“I haven’t talked to anyone but you. You started this. If you’re ready to end it on these terms, or terms we can get to from here, then we can run it by others. As for how long we have to respond, we have a few days at least. Take some time to think it through.”
Thea watched Max absorb what she had told him, his always expressive face moving from surprise to concentration and then to doubt. “So no one would know what’s happened, except the ones who know already? And we couldn’t tell anyone?”
“That’s right. Hu and I didn’t get into the details, but I would think LiveAfter could sue anyone who talked. And as for us stored folk, they could make sure we didn’t—censor us, at the very least.”
Max wrinkled up his forehead. “Hu thinks she could get them to undo the political monkey business and still leave you your memories? That sounds pretty tricky—and they haven’t actually offered it, right?”
“Right. And I’m nervous about trusting them to do it properly. Especially if we might lose the guardian ad litem.”
“What does Hu think?”
Good question. “She hasn’t told me. I think she wanted to know how I’d react without her influence.”
Max blew out his breath with a soft huff, stirring his hair. “I don’t know about you, but I want to hear her take on it. This is too big and too strange. I’m afraid of missing something.”
Bless him for admitting it, and helping her admit the same. “I’ll set up the call.”
Hu still appeared wary of saying too much. “What, exactly, do you want to know?”
Thea glanced toward the image of Max, who nodded in her direction. “We both want to know what you think will happen down the road—say in a few months. Will they undo the changes carefully? Will they take any revenge later on? And will they pull anything like this again?”
Hu tightened her lips and shook her head a little. “Whether we settle or whether we win—let alone if we lose—there’s no way to be sure on any of those points. Except . . . if the lawsuit continues and gets more publicity, they’ll have more to lose, commercially speaking. Even if they prevail in court, the rumors won’t die completely. They’ll have to keep looking over their shoulder at legislators and regulators, as well as trying to dispel the fears of their customer base.”
Thea turned back toward Max. “Hon? What do you think?”
Max looked ready to cry, but he still managed to blow her a kiss with both his hands. “It’s your call. But I’m game to fight it out.”
Thea gazed at him, hoping he could read the depth of her gratitude as well as her love. “Well, then. Max, Hu: no settlement. Not unless we can tell the world.”
Hu nodded. “Just so you know: I can try, but I predict that means fighting it out, all the way.”
“Then we fight.”
Max started humming an old, familiar tune. Thea, to her surprise, started to laugh, then joined in, singing the words: “No retreat, baby—no surrender!”
* * * * *
“So are you going to call your stored client as a witness?” The young associate leaned in Hu’s doorway, face alive with eager curiosity. He would make a good litigator: he loved learning anything new, and his liveliness had an innocence about it that would (for at least the next year or two) mislead opposing counsel into underestimating him.
She may as well channel an old law professor or two and interrogate the lad a bit. “What would be some of the advantages?”
The associate held up his fingers and started counting on them. “She’s attractive.” Hu raised an eyebrow; the young man tossed his head. “So I checked her out! . . . She’s articulate and self-possessed. And it’ll be harder to gain sympathy for her if she’s only presented secondhand.”
“And the disadvantages?”
The associate pondered for a moment, then chuckled. “The same points. The trier of fact will see a good-looking woman who speaks well and seems to be in good shape. Any injury she’s supposed to have suffered may seem pretty abstract next to that reality. And that’s assuming they don’t manage to get around the court’s order and program her to undermine her own case.”
“Thanks for bringing up my worst nightmare. But well done. Now run off and bill some hours. I’m going to need expensive therapy when this is over. And close the door behind you, please.”
The associate bowed and closed the door. Hu listened to his heels clicking off down the hall, then folded her arms on her desk and rested her head, eyes closed. She’d exaggerated about the nightmares, but in fact she wasn’t sleeping too well. She rarely did at this stage of the case. And it had been years since she had a client so presently vulnerable as Thea might be.
If she put Thea on the witness list, she would increase the defendants’ temptations to mislead the guardian ad litem somehow. What might happen then, to her client as well as her case, Hu could only imagine.
And if one of the defendants put Thea on their own witness list, what conclusions could she draw? And would she be able to convince the court to share them?
* * * * *
The General Counsel had taken to making her reports entirely in writing. Prudent of her: the CEO was in no mood for any hint of “I told you so.”
Plaintiffs have rejected the proposal we discussed. I cannot recommend accepting their counteroffer: it would offer few advantages over the sort of order a court would be likely to issue if plaintiffs prevail, and their path to such a victory is by no means assured. I can, if you wish, attempt further negotiation, although I am not optimistic about making any significant progress thereby.
The CEO fished for an antacid and let it dissolve on his tongue. Then, quickly, he tapped out a response. Make the attempt. And in the meantime, see what you can do to add some obstructions to the path you mention.
* * * * *
“DAMN!”
The young associate passing by in the corridor stopped short and stuck his head in Hu’s door. “What’s happened?”
“They did put Thea on their witness list. Are they just keeping their options open? Or have they pulled something?”
“Good question. How are you going to find out?”
“I’m going to call the GAL. I had a talk with him before he set up shop, suggesting some precautions he should take. Let’s hope he took them.”
The judge called the emergency video conference to order. “All right, Ms. Yang, where’s the fire?”
The screen, controlled by the bailiff, had shown the judge and both attorneys in equal vertical slices; Hu’s window now enlarged. “Your Honor, I’ve had a very disturbing report from the GAL you appointed. You’ll have noted that he’s part of this conference and ready to explain.”
Hu’s window shrank as her opponent’s enlarged. “Any objection from defense counsel?”
Today’s member of the LiveAfter legal team, a supercilious man of middle years, sniffed and said, “No objection to Your Honor hearing this report, now that we’ve convened. Once we’ve rebutted the fanciful inferences plaintiffs’ counsel has been drawing, we may have a few words to say about the necessity of this emergency hearing.”
The view switched to an evenly split screen, the bailiff on the left and the GAL on the right. “Bailiff, please administer the oath.”
That done, the right-hand view enlarged to about two-thirds of the screen, with the lawyers sharing the remaining third. Hu noticed that the random assignment of space had put her on top, which she may as well pretend was fortuitous.
She had, of course, already heard the GAL’s account, but she made herself pay close attention in case he had changed it in any way, and to prepare for opposing counsel’s attempts to pick it apart.
“As one of the precautions that seemed appropriate, I have made a daily backup of plaintiff Thea Lee’s files from the day of my appointment through the present time. The backups naturally differ, as Lee’s experiences and memories are continually incorporated. I have made myself familiar with the code involved in that incorporation.
“The code from two days ago has changes which strike me as significantly different from the changes I could expect.”
Hu nodded gravely. “Can you determine the nature of those changes?”
“Without additional access to proprietary information, I can only say that they are likely to involve emotional intensity and motivation.”
“Your witness, counselor.” Hu’s window shrank; the other lawyer’s enlarged. Hu monitored the ensuing wrangle about the extent of the GAL’s expertise in interpreting the code, guessing that the judge would cut it short without her intervention.
Sure enough, in a few minutes the judge’s image reappeared. “I believe that’s enough. Ms. Yang, any redirect, or may we excuse the witness?”
“I may need to recall him, Your Honor.”
“So noted. Bailiff, make sure that Ms. Lee’s guardian ad litem remains available. Ms. Yang, do you have other witnesses to call?”
“I do, though some arrangements will have to be made. I call my client, Thea Lee.”
LiveAfter’s attorney did a decent job of portraying put-upon patience and restrained frustration. “Your Honor, we had anticipated such a demand. Ms. Lee had apparently been napping, but she has been awakened and will be accessible shortly.”
Thea did in fact look sleepy, and something more. Or less. A certain thrum of energy usually ran through her, something visible in the straightness of her (virtual) spine and the carriage of her head. Hu was not seeing it now.
Hu had already arranged for a private audio channel to Max, but she could not converse with him on that channel without the fact becoming apparent to the other hearing participants. She had therefore instructed him to tell her, without prompting, any impressions he had of Thea and any questions he recommended Hu ask her.
If he had made any sound before this point, she had been concentrating too hard to notice. But now, she could hardly miss his gasp of dismay.
* * * * *
Thea tried to clear her head. She should have known better than to nap during the day—it always took too long for her to snap back and function properly afterward. But her bed had looked so enticing, so welcoming, almost like a lover waiting to embrace her. . . .
She took the oath, or rather made the affirmation, despite her awareness that she really didn’t know just what “the penalties for perjury” were. What happened to a stored person convicted of a crime? Would they find themselves in a virtual cell, or be deleted as flawed code? Or would they be reprogrammed?
Reprogramming. That’s what this lawsuit was supposed to be about. As if anyone could really stop it from happening.
* * * * *
Max hissed in Thea’s left ear, where she had plugged in his private call. “She looks—punctured. Deflated.”
“Your witness, Ms. Yang.” The judge recalled Hu’s attention.
“Ms. Lee, may I call you Thea?”
“I guess. Sure.”
“Thea, what is your present attitude toward this litigation?”
Thea looked a bit confused. “I’m not sure why that matters.” (Another hiss from Max, followed by a short burst of cussing.) “I guess it sounded like a good idea when you told me about it.”
“Are you prepared to invest substantial time and effort in prosecuting it?”
Thea bit her lip. “Now that it’s started, I wouldn’t want to leave anyone in the lurch. And I don’t want anyone changing my thoughts and feelings without telling me.” (Max sighed, loudly, in Hu’s ear. Relief, no doubt, that the meddling had not gone further. The perpetrators had had a fine line to walk, the advantages of that meddling correlated closely with the risk of discovery.) “But I’m not sure what it’s really practical to do about it. I’m not sure the contract gave us any rights to oversee the company that way.”
(Damn it, Thea, stop playing opposing counsel on me!)
“Do you remember expressing any different assessments previously?” Hu held her breath. If only they had overreached this little bit more. . . .
Thea frowned a little. “I don’t think so.”
Yes!
When the GAL first confirmed Hu’s suspicions, Hu had wasted a few moments in chagrin at her own lack of foresight. Thea had told her, repeatedly and recently, how glad she was that Hu had taken the case and how important she considered it; but those comments had always been part of conversations that also included tactical exchanges and other confidential matters. If she tried to introduce only part of that discussion, opposing counsel could demand the rest. From now on, Hu would ask Thea daily to reaffirm her support and enthusiasm, in short exchanges that included nothing problematic to expose.
Thank God—thank Eros or Aphrodite or Xochiquetzal or Clíodhna or Kama or whoever the gods of love were supposed to be—that Thea and Max had had the same discussion five days ago. If Thea then had been the weary mouse of today, she would never have dared to say as much as she had in a monitored call.
There was nothing else Thea could do, at present. "No further questions. Your Honor.” Would LiveAfter’s attorney cross-examine? Hu thought not. Anything Thea might say to undermine her own case would, at this point, be likely to boomerang. And indeed, opposing counsel waved away the opportunity.
“Ms. Yang, do you have more?”
“Your Honor, at this time I would like to call Ms. Lee’s husband and fellow plaintiff Max Cooper to testify as to a conversation with Ms. Lee. He is standing by to appear.”
Of course opposing counsel objected, though not intelligently. “Hearsay!”
The judge’s mouth twitched. “I suppose you had to try, for the record. Surely you know, counselor—but I should not assume the point of Ms. Yang’s questioning. Ms. Yang, for what purpose do you offer this testimony?”
“To show Thea’s state of mind at the time of the conversation, Your Honor. Not for the truth of the matter asserted therein. And I strongly suspect that LiveAfter’s own recordings could be used to verify the existence and content of this discussion.”
“A possibility we can explore if defense counsel wishes.”
The judge paused to allow LiveAfter’s attorney to respond, but no response came. “Objection overruled.”
“Thank you, Your Honor.” Both lawyers spoke at the same time, good courtroom manners on the one side, genuine gratification on the other.
Max made it through his testimony without any of the varied emotional displays Hu had feared. There had been little time to prepare him for cross-examination; but he remembered and obeyed Hu’s instructions to take his time and to keep his answers short.
“Couldn’t you be confusing your wife’s gratitude for your concern with an endorsement of how you were expressing that concern?”
“No.”
“Didn’t she express any concern about her contractual obligations?”
“No. She had confidence in her case and her lawyer.” (Thank you, kind sir!)
Once Max had been excused (though he remained on the separate line), the judge recalled the GAL on her own initiative. “Assuming I find as plaintiffs ask me to find, what remedies are technically feasible?”
The GAL started to shrug before he apparently thought better of it. “It’s possible that the technical staff could selectively eliminate whatever alterations Your Honor finds have occurred. But there would be no effective way for me to oversee that work and guarantee its completeness and accuracy.”
The judge put both attorneys back on screen. “Ms. Yang? What do you propose?”
She had been chewing away at that question from the moment she got the news, and the taste remained bitter. “Given the alternatives, we would suggest restoration of Ms. Lee’s files to their status as of just prior to the alterations in question.”
“That would eliminate Ms. Lee’s memories from the intervening period, would it not?”
“I’m afraid so.” Hu glared at the image of opposing counsel.
The judge enlarged Thea’s screen to the point that the attorneys occupied only one small corner apiece of the total view. “Ms. Lee, I have a few questions for you. You are still under oath.”
Thea sat a little hunched over, looking up with wide eyes.
“Ms. Lee, you’ve heard what your guardian ad litem and your attorney have had to say. Do you wish to relinquish the memories you have accrued over the period in question?”
Thea looked around, then focused on something in her surroundings. As she did so, she sat up straighter, and looked less forlorn. Then she looked back at what must be her screen. “I’d like to talk to Max about that.”
Hu attempted telepathy. She may have succeeded: Thea added, “Without anyone else listening in. Unless we ask them to.”
The judge nodded briskly. “Bailiff, make the technical arrangements. This hearing is in recess for—how long do you think you’ll need, Ms. Lee?”
Thea wrinkled her forehead as if thinking was an effort. “Maybe twenty minutes?”
“This hearing will reconvene in thirty minutes. Good luck, Ms. Lee.” Hu’s screen went dark. Unless Max brought her into the discussion, she would simply have to wait and see.
* * * * *
Max fought back sorrow, rage, and the other feelings crowding in on him. None of them would help him help Thea. He'd have time for them later.
But he would probably have bad dreams about the way she looked, like some bewitched version of the woman he loved.
“Please tell me.” At least she had enough remaining spirit to speak first. “Am I different? Have I changed in just the last few days?”
Max did not try to speak. He simply nodded.
“Much?”
He gulped. “It's plain to me. And it would be to you, if you—you the way you really are—could see yourself.”
“Is there any way that change could come from something that happened in those days?”
He'd have bet his soul on that answer. But she was the one who could actually answer it. “You're the one with those memories. Whether they're real memories or whether they were slipped in on you. Is there some explanation there?”
Thea got her processing-info expression. At least that hadn't changed. She took her time; but after what felt like forever, she leaned toward her screen with something of her old energy. “Not a thing.”
“Guess they were sloppy. Or lazy. They should have fed you some sort of revelation.”
The miracle of mischief filled her face. “Or maybe a mad crush on one of the programmers. Or on the CEO.”
Now that she no longer needed convincing, he could offer her a way. “If you want to be sure, you could look at your code, the way you did before.”
Thea cocked her head to one side. “I could, couldn't I? I'd forgotten about that. . . . But this time, we'd have to ask for it. And then they'd know that I know how. Let's not.”
They sat gazing at each other for a moment. Then Max remembered that they weren't really done, not yet.
“So what do you want to do about it? Can you let those memories go? Were there parts that you'd miss?”
She looked woebegone again for a moment. “I wrote some music for you.”
He closed his eyes for a moment, fighting tears, then gave up the fight. She'd seen him cry before, and she'd understand. “Can you play it for me?”
“I don't think I can get to it, the way they've connected this call. It was flute and marimba, together. But I can sing it to you. And then, later, you can play it back to me.”
Max sniffed and nodded, opening the software he needed to record her. Then he sat back, heart full to bursting, and listened to her sing.
* * * * *
“We are back in session and back on the record. Ms. Lee, have you had a chance to consult your attorney after your conversation with Mr. Cooper?”
“Yes, Your Honor.” Thea sat straighter now, if not quite as usual. Max had done Hu proud, remembering to add her to his and Thea’s call at the end. She had had only one suggestion to add.
“And your decision?”
Thea took a visible deep breath. “I want to be restored.” She smiled a little. “Rebooted. To before the code the GAL considered anomalous. But I request that my current code be backed up somewhere, so I can find someone to try to disentangle the memories I'll be losing and give them back to me later—if I want them.”
The judge brought the lawyers back on screen. “Further argument or motions on these issues?”
Counsel for LiveAfter did a convincing imitation of ironic detachment. “In due course, we will file a motion seeking restitution for the costs of this unnecessary procedure. In the meantime, we ask that this court's order hold us harmless for any unforeseen adverse consequences that may flow from it.”
Hu gritted her teeth for a moment before she caught herself. “Your Honor, we most strenuously object to any such provision.”
“Back to your corners, both of you. I will draft some appropriate language for defendants' protection, but it will not, rest assured, go that far. Ms. Lee, you may wait for your counsel to see that language, but if you prefer, I will issue a separate order for that purpose, and order the restoration to proceed forthwith.”
Thea looked away, perhaps toward the corner of the screen showing Max's image. Then she squared her shoulders and faced forward once again. “I'm ready now, Your Honor.”
* * * * *
Thea awoke, well rested, with an odd feeling that something about this morning was not quite as usual. She got up, stretched, grabbed her robe—one she had designed herself, in bold warm colors to help her wake up fully—and went to her desk. Maybe Max had already sent her a message.
And he had.
“Welcome back, baby. You've had a bit of a Rip Van Winkle episode. Get comfy and let me fill you in. And then call me. I really need to see you and hear your voice. And I have a song to play to you.”
