Chris considered reset day a pain in the ass. It took up a half a day, played tricks on his short term memory, and gave him significant philosophical qualms on the issue of whether he was living the life he should be living. He continued to go in as scheduled because he was living half the life – or truthfully far less than half the life – he and Karen had planned together. Resets were a benefit of his job, they allowed him to continue to do his work effectively, and after all, he still valued life and a useful level of fitness. That was the whole point of Longevity. It plainly beat the alternative.
The morning after meeting his new partner, he showed up for his quarterly appointment, and as often in the city employees’ facility in massive City Central, he saw a new doctor – new to him that is – for his scan consultation.
Unlike most physicians, this one had chosen to keep the face of a 21 year-old. Chris, never having met him before, had no idea of his true age except to know that he had to be at least a decade younger than Chris was, even if he was from one of the extremely wealthy families that were the only ones able to afford resets before the explosion of technical achievements in 2040 made them affordable for a lot of the upper middle class as well.
“You’re 101 chrono, and what? 33 biol? A pioneer,” the doctor said, slightly surprised.
He had been scanning Chris’ records but at that he looked up and scrutinized Chris more closely, a little like he might examine a lab specimen. “Your BMI and cardiac parameters haven’t changed in the last 6 decades. According to our records, you’ve never had anything but departmental resets,” he glanced inquiringly at Chris, “yet you look a very fit 30-35. How do you feel?”
“Like a 30-35 year old,” Chris said.
“You’ve never had any kind of enhancement? A slight metabolic adjustment? No? That’s a lot of work on your own. Very impressive.” The doctor paused. “Too many people think that resets and enhancements can do it all, even though they must know that enhancements to help increase muscle strength and reflex times are illegal.”
“I’m in LLE,” Chris said.
“Ah, so of course you know. Well, you seem to have a regimen that keeps you fit,” he said, then paused. There was obviously bad news coming.
“Unfortunately, I still need to recommend visits every 2 months from now on.”
“Why?” Chris asked.
“Let me see. To put it in terms you can understand. First of all, it’s a myth that the need for resets increases with a little age – you can reach your allotment without having to adjust your reset interval. Most people, other than nervous types with lots of resources, do just that. So it’s not for the resets.
“It’s always been a tradeoff between senescence – cell aging – and instability. Not to get too technical on you… when we learned how to manipulate telomeres and stem cells and really use engineered RNA and transcription factors with incredible precision and molebiologists started devising catalysts that could speed the processes up without stressing… well, to put it simply, we beat senescence. But when we destroyed the Hayflick Limit, we set ourselves up for an increase in instability.
“So, when you come in quarterly for your resets, we do our mapping and scans each time, because it’s not senescence we’re checking for, it’s tumorigeneses. We’ve always been able to destroy a few abnormally replicating cells in situ, but if they get further along than that, it gets more difficult to destroy them without being more invasive. There is a new imaging technology that catches them sooner, that’s all, and if we can catch them sooner, and locate them more precisely, we can treat them sooner. When they’re just a few cells in size… well, you get the picture. It’s not your situation that’s changed, it’s ours. New technology. Better medicine. It’s win-win really,” the doctor said finally, and smiled brightly.
“Uh huh,” Chris said. He’s very young, Chris thought. He believes in a win-win scenario. So young that he was still enthralled with the great gift his science had given humanity, and what more could be done with it. Out of pure curiosity, when the doctor had gotten distracted by something in Chris’ record, Chris took the opportunity to ask a question he asked every decade or so. It was the young physician’s unabashed enthusiasm that made him curious, he supposed.
“Do they still teach history and sociology in the schools?”
“History? Sure, some,” the doctor said. “If you mean specifically the Allotment Riots, of course. Sociology? No, not much. I mean, at the university level, sure, people can take all they want. But you know, it takes a lot just to keep up with all of the molebiol and other relevant science. If we could get a neuro- enhancement, now…” he added jokingly.
He looked at Chris, who had heard it so often before that he couldn’t muster even a flicker of a smile. The doctor obviously had second thoughts about what he’d said, because he added seriously, “We have enough to deal with in the science. We can’t control the rest of it. That’s what the Laws and LLE are for, isn’t it? No offense, but isn’t that your job?”
The doctor went back to his memotab and stylus.
“No offense taken,” Chris said mildly. “Right, our responsibility. So, an appointment every two months. Is that it?”
“Yes. That’s based on analyses of your maps from the last three pre-reset scans. Your situation is that you have a long history of nicely modulated telomere regeneration but we have to make sure it is kept under control, and now that we have the technology to catch abnormalities even earlier… In the old days I suspect you would have had what was called a family history of cancer.”
Chris’ aspect radiated patience and the doctor faltered.
“Of course, it’s all here in your record, with tickles: both of your parents and your sister died of cancer in the decade before Longevity was licensed. I guess you spent a lot of your time in the hospitals of the time. Surely with your family history someone explained all our concerns about tumorigenisis to you already.”
“I’m sure they have. I’m probably not a good listener,” Chris said. He remembered being told at some point, decades ago, that his genome handled the Longevity Process especially well, as a result of the infamous tradeoff. After Karen’s death, he’d stopped listening. For the last 55 years he had kept fit and continued to come in on the recommended schedule because it helped him do his job well. He just couldn’t seem to get interested in the details anymore.
Every morning, as they separated to go to their respective jobs, Chris with Enforcement and Karen as a Bioethics professor at the university, she had said “Go forth young man, and fight the good fight.” Karen, who was two years younger than he was, could remember as well as he could when ‘young’ really meant young, so for both of them it had been a bit of a tongue-in-cheek reminder that they had chosen to live in a surreal world.
“If I understand you, I won’t need a full reset every time, at least?” Chris asked, standing up. “I depend a lot on short term memory for my work.”
“No. Most certainly not. As I said, that schedule is unlikely to change. We’ll just be doing scans and making decisions about in situ work with med-bullets based on the results.”
“That’s it, then?”
“You’re done.”
“Thanks,” Chris said politely. The doctor nodded and stared after him as he walked out of the room.
Tuesday morning Livvy, comu in hand, once again navigated the complex series of underground conveyances that took her from her hotel to LLE headquarters. After leaving her room, she subsisted without glimpsing the sun anywhere along her route on the subterranean fasttracks. Not being a vampire, she had already developed a dislike for it. Just asking her comu for the fastest route wasn’t going to cut it. Tomorrow she’d start earlier so she could beat her partner to work and still get a nice walk in the morning sunshine somewhere scenic along the way.
When she got to the office, Louie was there, lying next to Chris’ desk on a nice plaid blanket, but Chris was nowhere to be seen. She had a sinking feeling. He’d already come in and gone out on assignment, leaving her behind. She was going to waste a day of the week she’d been granted for proving herself. She’d either spend all day trying to catch up to him or languishing in the office – if finding him proved impossible – reading Enhancement Law Updates.
After their encounter with Marcy Caster yesterday, they’d spent the afternoon at their desks, Chris filing his report on Marcy and some overdue reports on old cases – that was the same, LLE or not – and Livvy struggling through ELU. She’d started a decade back and was working her way to the current ones, reaching May 2098 without falling asleep more than twice. After two nights in D.C. her internal clock was still on west coast time and sleep was elusive. Melatonin enhancements were illegal but she was going to ask someone – someone other than her partner – where to find some pills.
“Hutchins, in here,” the Chief called, gifting her with a small boost of adrenaline.
“Sit.” She did, and he spent a few moments regarding her thoughtfully. It seemed to be a habit with him. A technique. Maybe he’d learned it from McGregor, she thought sardonically, determined not to squirm.
“McGregor isn’t a training officer. Never has been.”
She sat up even straighter. “So he said. I remember.”
“Well, I’m afraid that’s not just your problem now, it’s mine as well. LLE handles a lot of things differently, and the differences are important.”
“I’ll pick it up,” Livvy said.
“You’re going to have to. McGregor knows LLE better than anyone, except maybe Dalton. Remember that. Follow his lead, and don’t hesitate to ask questions.”
Feeling just a little foolish, Livvy cleared her throat softly. “Got it. It’s why I’m here. Uh, where is he?”
The Chief snorted. “He didn’t tell you. Well, he’s not used to having a partner. He has a reset appointment this morning.
“I’m giving you a new assignment. You’ll get a head start if you want to impress him. There’s a physician, Dr. Milo Josephson, whose clinic staff called in. He missed an appointment this morning. Get ready to check it out with McGregor when gets back. I’ve asked Dalton to fill you in on some background when she has a chance.
“That’s all.”
Livvy spent the next hour locating and calling Josephson’s clinic to get the details of Josephson’s schedule and the missed appointment, then arranging an interview with Josephson’s girlfriend. Interestingly enough, the clinic staff not only happily supplied the girlfriend’s address; they seemed to relish the idea of LLE paying her a visit. She was apparently a regular at the clinic.
It was a heady experience, having people so willing to talk to her, and not one she had been expecting. As an LLE detective, her right to requisition an individual’s reset and enhancement records, and everything related to practitioners’ and researchers’ work, was unassailable. The clinic license and their jobs were at her disposal. The people at Josephson’s clinic, though, were not just talking to her to fulfill their legal obligation, they seemed glad to be doing so. A few minutes in, she realized it was the prospect that Josephson was in trouble that was pleasing them, not any unlikely desire to make her life easier.
After checking Archives for any past Enforcement history on Josephson, Professional Licensing for the status of his licenses, and the professional associations, AAMP and AAMB, for any ethics issues, Livvy went back to her study of ELU.
“If you’re determined to actually read those things in their original language, Manglese, you’re going to need some more of this,” Meg Dalton said, setting a mug of black coffee by Livvy’s left hand.
Meg had brought another coffee for herself, and made it clear by dragging Chris’ chair around that she was planning on staying awhile.
“Well, I was, but if you offer some excuse to tear me away for a while all I can say is, ‘thank you, thank you.’”
“I think I should be able to beat that for keeping you awake,” Meg said, nodding at the ELU. “With some help from the LLE coffee, that is.”
“That obvious, huh? Has everyone noticed me nodding off?” Livvy asked.
“We’re detectives. We notice things,” Meg said. She cocked her head and nodded at ELU again. “But unfortunately, a lot of our work is following through on violations involving that stuff you’ve been trying to study. Some of it is a moving target.
“You came here from Homicide?”
“Yes. Ten years. In San Francisco.”
“And Tactical before that, I understand. So I’d guess you’ve seen your share of the more exciting side of life,” Meg said.
“I’m behind on sleep,” Livvy said, “but not, I can assure you, because I’m worried about missing any action.”
“And the Chief has given you a missing doctor to find. McGregor’ll be back soon and you’ll get to go out on your first real LLE case,” Meg said, her eyes glinting in a way that reminded Livvy uneasily of Mike’s wicked smile. “The Chief asked me to give you some background.”
“On the missing doctor? So he said. But it’s a new case and not much of one. It turns out that the doctor called the clinic on Friday to cancel his appointments for the day. He’s barely missing. A few more calls and we’ll probably find out that it’s just a family emergency or something else that he got wrapped up in and absent-mindedly forgot to call the clinic about Monday and Tuesday. A non-starter, in fact.”
“And you’re already wondering about the black hole you’ve hitched your star to,” Meg said. Her eyes were still glinting, but then she hesitated and seemed to gather her thoughts. “LLE handles things differently. We try to be proactive. Any time it’s a missing physician or molebiologist who does Longevity or enhancement clinical or research work, detectives go out if anything is called in. And we require the clinics to call in any schedule irregularities or unexpected absences. It’s possible, for example, that Josephson was under duress when he called in to cancel on Friday.
“As for this being a new case,” she added slowly. “It may be and it may not be. Josephson has a history of considerable significance to LLE.”
“I couldn’t find anything in Archives or in the ethics cases in AAMP or AAMB,” Livvy said, a little chagrined. “What did I miss?”
“There wouldn’t be anything in the official records. For what this sorry son-of-a-bitch did, you have to get the story from the few of us who were around when he did it. McGregor and I were here. The Chief wasn’t, but he keeps a cross-indexed file of these kinds of cases so he can assign repeat offenders to the original detectives.”
“But if it was an old LLE case, wouldn’t there at least be a record of an Incident Alert in Archives?”
“Not necessarily,” Meg said. “A lot of the calls LLE went out on in those early days were on things that weren’t yet illegal. It was a molebiol wilderness and we were on the frontier. LLE has been proactive throughout its history. McGregor pioneered the way LLE handles things.”
Meg looked around the office at the other LLE detectives. About half were at their desks, the rest were out of the office or elsewhere in Enforcement or City Central, Livvy supposed.
“Back to Josephson and why there are no records of his involvement. One reason is that he’s a physician. The Chief has asked me to give you some deep background. The kind you’re not likely to get from McGregor, who’s…
“Rusty on dealing with a partner. Yes, I know,” Livvy said.
Meg smiled and took a sip of coffee. “In Homicide did you ever come across a case of medical malpractice that resulted in a death?”
“A few.”
“So maybe you have some idea of the power of the AMA. Nowadays LLE deals more with the AAMP, because although it was ostensibly spun-off from the AMA to increase the lobbying power of the practitioners who specialize in Longevity and enhancement technologies, it also allows the AMA to stay out of some of the worst of the molebiol controversies. Unfortunately, while Josephson’s involvement may have been heinous, even to the AMA, which was the only Association they all shared at the time, it was not illegal, and couldn’t even be proven to be unethical.
“By the way, if you want to get a sense of how powerful the AAMP lobby is, witness how Longevity and enhancement technologies are licensed for use only under the supervision of a physician. Only the AAMB comes close to matching them in power. Court battles between the two have been epic, with the molebiologists who do clinical work claiming they have been virtually enslaved by the medical profession.
“On the other hand, the people still like having that M.D. handy. Even in the hotlabs, patrons with the funds to finance it will try to have a physician on retainer.” Meg shrugged. “Considering what can go wrong, I’ve always thought it was a good idea.”
“Are there really that many molebiologists and physicians out there ignoring the Laws?” Livvy asked, intrigued. “You just don’t hear about it being a big problem.”
Meg gave her a meaningful look. “Exactlly. That’s the goal. That’s because of the way LLE handles it.”
“I’m starting to get that,” Livvy said.
“LLE has an aversion to the limelight. We don’t just fail to seek the public eye, we shun it,” Meg said. “It’s very important that you understand this, so I’m going to say it again: we try not to let the public know how much of this is going on. It just fuels the fires if they know.”
“Huh,” Livvy said thoughtfully.
Meg watched her. “Think of it this way. Two years ago a man severely beat his girlfriend when she got pregnant. She miscarried and almost died. Now, this sort of abuse has been going on for, well, as long as careless jerks have been mistakenly getting careless women pregnant. But now, there are… new twists to the problem. The man was plugged into Longevity, so he risked losing 50 years if the woman chose to have the baby. The careless jerk claiming he didn’t want the baby is not a recognized legal recourse.”
“Was that his motive?” Livvy asked.
“Yes, but it really doesn’t matter, does it? That’s the point. Just the suspicion… It wasn’t even an LLE case. But associated with his arrest, there were riots, anti-Longevity riots, and 3 more people died. Do you see?
“The desire to keep LLE’s activities underground affects how we handle a lot of our work. You might say it’s the unofficial LLE mission statement. People know we exist. We’re happiest if they believe we just sit here and monitor allotments and resets and catch an occasional black marketer,” Meg said, still watching Livvy as though she was gauging her reaction.
“This is key to understanding the work we do here,” she added.
At this point Richard Williams sauntered over from the coffee corner and hitched a hip on the side of Chris’ desk. “Lend me your venerable wisdom, Meg. What’s key to the work? I’ve been here ten years and I haven’t figured it out yet.” He took a sip from his mug.
“Not emulating a colleague who’s clueless as to what’s key to the work,” Meg said without a pause. Then, in an undertone to Livvy, “And he’s worked here ten years.”
Meg turned back to stare at Williams with a patient expression and after a few seconds said pleasantly, “This is private.”
Livvy thought she saw a fleeting resentment on Williams’ face, but it vanished too quickly for her to be sure. He threw up his hands in resignation.
“I was just hoping it was a bitch session on McGregor, so I could contribute my load,” he said to Livvy. “Anytime.”
He stood up and sauntered back to his desk.
“Sorry,” Dalton said when he had left. “I don’t have time for him this morning.”
“You were going to tell me about Josephson.”
Dalton was looking through the glass windows into the Chief’s office. Livvy noticed that the Chief was watching them, and some wordless, motionless signal might have passed between them, because Dalton stood up unexpectedly.
“Do you feel like a walk?” she asked. She went over to the coffee corner and freshened her cup, then waited while Livvy followed suit. “We’ll go talk in the Atrium. Have you found it yet? Bring Louie if you want. He’ll like it, too.
Out of the office and a few turns later, they began down a long, straight hall towards what appeared to be a lush miniature topiary set on the edge of a cliff. It made Livvy want to hurry to get there, except that at one point, the hall turned into a glass-enclosed bridge as they passed from the Enforcement building into City Central. They were seventeen stories up and she had her first view of the D.C. skyline. The Washington Monument and capitol dome, sixty years after their reconstruction, were visible high above the rest of the city, and the soaring Laws Memorial, only 10 meters shorter than the capitol, was framed between them. Meg paused so they could just look for a while, and Livvy noticed that Meg was also gazing out over the city.
“I never get tired of it,” Meg murmured. “First view?”
Livvy nodded. She couldn’t have said anything if she tried.
“McGregor and I were here when most of it was destroyed. Over there,” Meg said, pointing off to the right, “are most of the remaining embassies, from those nations still intact enough to maintain them. The rest of the mansions have gone to molebiol billionaires.”
They started walking again and reached the extension of the hall into the City Central building. “I’m assuming you flew in Sunday, and then yesterday and today you came in on an UGH and up on one of the swift-els straight from there. When McGregor took you out on your call you used the fastest route to the motor pool and back the same way, with few deviations. From now on you can come in this way when you have time. Even Chris does it, when he’s not in a hurry, which is all too infrequent.”
“UGH?” Livvy asked with only half of her attention on the answer.
“Underground Hop. The local underground conveyances that feed Metro are all called that, whether they’re Coasters or Paceways.”
They had emerged from the hall to stand in the middle of the topiary garden, and they threaded through the cross traffic of people moving at a wide variety of speeds until they reached the railing at the edge of the cliff.
“So, like it?” Meg asked.
“It’s magnificent,” Livvy said.
“City Central’s Atrium is its architects’ one concession to aesthetics. If you come in on an UGH, you can come in to the Atrium Station and walk up to the ground floor courtyard. From there you can walk, if you really want some exercise, or take one of the slow Atrium els up to 17 where we are, then find the garden here, take the hall back, and follow the route we just came. Enforcement, and more specifically LLE may be, as you saw, in one of the satellite buildings, but other than having to traverse the longer entrance hall and the bridge, we get the benefit of the Atrium all the same.”
Seeing Livvy’s face, Meg laughed and added, “Don’t worry, I’ll be going back with you this morning.”
It took Livvy a few moments to adjust to the height, and then she began to appreciate the whole scheme. The City Central building itself was a gigantic cylinder with an open core that was bout 75 meters across at the base and widened gradually as it reached the 20th floor. Broad, cantilevered stairs spiraled up the sides of the Atrium, clinging to the glass walls, and on very floor there was a long – 45 meters Livvy guessed – garden-bedecked landing. When Livvy looked down, she could see an extensive pond and what appeared to be a tea garden with flagstone paths and arched bridges in the ground floor courtyard. The suspended gardens spiraled up from there in a green ribbon with bright splashes of other colors. Two stories above them was a radiant garden designed to look like a rainbow, and on the third, sixth and 12th floors there were small waterfalls that cascaded down to a pool in one of the gardens below. With the sun at the right angle they looked like sparkling silver ribbons.
“As you can see, all of the gardens are different, and when you come up the interior els, you pass through one every five floors. These are the slow els, and because so many people like them, they stop a lot. I try to take a different el every day,” Meg continued, “unless I have time to walk up.”
Livvy looked up, beyond the three floors above them, to see open sky.
“What happens when it rains?”
“Usually not a problem, but if absolutely necessary, there are panels that come out of the roof and constrict over the opening like a pupil.”
They settled in on a bench that was surrounded by a family of topiary geese. A topiary fox nearby looked ready to spring, and a larger goose faced him with spread wings and an outstretched neck. Meg said, “I’ve always loved this bench. The work of a landscaper with a less-than-subtle sense of allegory, I know, but I still love it.”
She brought her gaze back to Livvy, and cocked her head again. “I’m curious. You weren’t expected. Not only do you transfer in out of the blue, but you get partnered with McGregor, who hasn’t had a partner in, well, decades, really.”
Livvy decided she was going to have to be honest about this one. The Chief knew the truth, and it was probably obvious to every one else on the squad that she had used some leverage to get her assignment.
“It’s a little embarrassing. My family has strings, I guess you’d call them, and one of them connects to the Commissioner. But McGregor hasn’t really accepted me yet. He said we’d give it a week, and I respect that.”
“Well, just so you know. McGregor seldom gives up on someone once he takes them on,” Meg said. “Which is one reason he doesn’t take partners to begin with, I think.” She looked down, leaving Livvy to wonder about the history between LLE’s two most veteran detectives.
Meg took a deep breath. “But the Chief asked me to give you the history on Josephson.” For someone who seemed so articulate, she was taking a long time to find a place to begin.
“There are quite a few practitioners and researchers who honestly disagree with the Laws,” Meg said finally. “They’re scientists, not ethicists, after all. And to be fair, even those who are mainly doing it for the money… I think most of them have their ethics gradually peeled away without noticing how insidious it is until it’s too late. Not this guy. Not this bastard Josephson.”
“You dislike him,” Livvy said mildly.
“A slight prejudice. I admit it.”
“It was your case? What did he do?”
“It was mine and Chris’,” Meg said. “In 2052, everyone was an LLE rookie, although Chris had been in Enforcement for twenty years and in LLE for one. Karen and the baby had been killed less than a year earlier…
“I met her once, when she came to the Academy to lecture on the Laws, and of course I’d listened to her at some of the peace rallies during the Riots. Karen DeVoe was… amazing. Passionate, eloquent. Brilliant, really. And ultimately optimistic, which we badly needed at the time. A huge loss.
“But back to Josephson, who is a totally different animal.” Meg paused and then laughed and took a sip of coffee. It had grown cold, and she set the mug down on the bench. “All these years and it’s still difficult to talk about it. Sara Ann Torkelson. Sound familiar?”
“Vaguely,” Livvy said.
“Try this. The Right of Maturity Law.”
“Hell and damnation,” Livvy said after a moment. “That was Sara?”
“Yes. We worked it as diligently as we could, trying to find an angle, but in the end, the sick bastard walked away with nary a black mark on his name to match the gaping hole in his soul.”
“Tell me.”
People, moving at every speed between a stroll and a jog, passed within three meters of their bench. A few entered and left the stream at the bank of els, and some diverted into the hall.
“Sara’s parent’s had lost two children already. Sara was their third, which of course meant they had given up any chance of resets after the age of fifty. I suppose one has to be able to imagine what that was like, and to be fair, I think losing the children was a huge grief compared to losing the years.
“A son in his late teens drowned in a boating accident about 10 years earlier. Then their daughter was hit by a malfunctioning car while she was walking to work and died instantly. The Torkelsons had the resources to have resets for life, but they had chosen to have a family and accept the minimal allotment. In 2052 they were 50 chrono and 35 biol. Sara was 11 chrono. And 4 biol.”
Livvy swallowed. “How could they? Living with her day to day, watching her achieve awareness of what they were doing. And what doctor steps into a situation like that and doesn’t consider the moral implications of what they’ve asked him to do?”
“One who’s mining a strong vein of egoism, I imagine. I think he was considering it an interesting experiment. Longevity wasn’t a process meant to be used on children, so there were lots of…kinks… to work out.”
“I understand they may have had some compulsion to keep her safe, but…” Livvy shook her head slowly.
“They’d already lost the two, and there was a complication with Sara’s birth. They couldn’t have any more children.”
“So they tried to keep Sara a child forever.”
“No, not forever. I can still remember sitting there while Sara’s mother, Julie, I think her name was, earnestly showed McGregor the timeline they had worked out.
“’See,’” she told him. “’When we were fifty we couldn’t get any more resets, so we started aging naturally. Biologically we’re still 35 years old. Sara will be 4 and can stay there until we are 45, and we can let her grow and go to school. We’ll have a natural family from then on, just like people used to have. We’ll live to see our grandchildren.’ She expected us to understand. It was pathological, her need to keep Sara a child that she could keep at home and sheltered.”
“It had to be more than just kinks. Sara was supposed to be growing, not aging. Even I – and molebiol is largely Cantonese to me – even I know that it’s a whole other thing. Whatever happened to her?” Livvy asked.
“At the time I first met her, she was excessively quiet, and… sickly, I think we could say. I’m not sure that didn’t suit her mother’s plans for her, because they had no notion of enrolling her in school with other children. Once Family Welfare got her away from Josephson and several of his hormonal manipulations were reversed, she started to age normally. I followed her progress for a while. Physically, she seemed okay. I think psychologically it was more difficult, until she had a child of her own, and then she could understand a little more. When I last met her, she wasn’t doing resets.”
“I don’t understand. Josephson is a doctor. Setting aside what it says about his moral compass, how did he get away with it?”
“He’s not only an M.D., but also a PhD with a molebiol license. His lawyer, and the Torkelson’s lawyer, both argued that Sara was ill and Josephson was trying to help her. He had some medical records to back it up. Molebiol Forensics never could get a handle on it, and Chris’ interview with the Torkelsons wasn’t enough to support prosecution. I suspect their lawyer could have argued for insanity as well.”
“That poor baby. At least the law was created,” Livvy said. “No resets before 21. I’ve always thought that was a little young to start, but I suppose they had to pick an age.”
“Yes. Something you’d think we’d take for granted, wouldn’t you? When the Laws were originally written, no one even thought of that one.” For a moment she seemed lost in pensive memories. “Not even Karen DeVoe, who did a good job thinking of everything else.”
She shook it off and said finally, “I really hate to say this because of what it implies about how well we’re doing with the Laws, but I think Josephson… I think he just likes to tinker with people. He’s been out there still doing research and clinical work for decades, and until now we haven’t had a lead on anything irregular in his work. Maybe he’s been clean, or maybe we just haven’t had a whiff because he’s learned more discretion.”
Meg stood up. “We’d better get back. You’ll want to meet McGregor in the motor pool so you can go from there.”
As they were walking back, Meg was still looking thoughtful. “Look, there are things about LLE work the Chief can’t actually tell you and McGregor won’t. If you do have questions, feel free to come to me.”
“I appreciate that. I’m not complaining, but my new partner… not a training officer.”
Meg smiled briefly. “You know, he’s never been a training officer.”
“Been said.”