tion. You know: better plasteel, realistic VR environments, A.I.’s with individual personalities. All of these were made possible by research done at Behl’s.” Cross knew all that already. Behl’s Theoreticians was the only Megacorp that didn’t manufacture goods of some kind. Their product consisted of data and advice. He’d often wondered why The Advocacy had even bothered including them in the charter. All they did was sit around and think, for God’s sake. How could that possibly cause harm to the population at large? “Indeed, before coming over to Macro Chaotics,” Eidling continued, ”Karin- Dr. Van Wyckhad worked in the particle physics branch. While there she’d seen some of her own theories applied to destructive ends and was determined that it not happen again.” “Did this lead her to take some kind of action?” said Cross. “Yes,” said Eidling, his eyes misting over. “She threw me out of the lab.” “She give you any kind of explanation when she did this?” said Cross, fully engaged now. Something about the little man’s story had made his hackles rise. “Only that she wished to go over all of our data again, alone,” said Eidling. “And what did you do then,” said Cross. “What could I do?” the little scientist muttered. “She was the head of the project. I went home. I spent a few days paying bills, sampling some of the recent game sims in VR.” Throughout Eidling’s narrative, Cross’s fingers beat a soft but steady staccato across the touchpad on his desk. He left off his note-taking when he became aware that Eidling had stopped talking. There was a sort of glassy sheen in his eyes that indicated to Cross that the scientist’s thoughts were not with him. “Dr. Eidling?” he said after a time. “You didn’t finish. What happened then?” “When?” said Eidling. Cross sighed and silently counted to ten. “After you went back to the lab,” he said. “You did go back?” “Yes,” he said. “And?” “And nothing,” said Eidling. “The lab was
empty. She was gone.” “Did you try to reach her at home?” said Cross. “I’d have thought you would have guessed by now, Mr. Cross,” said Eidling. “Dr. Van Wyck and I live together. We were- are- lovers.” Internally Cross kicked himself. Of course they were. Why else had this nervous, retiring little man stepped so brazenly out of the corporate womb to involve an Advocate in his troubles? He was desperate. “I’m sorry, Doc,” said Cross. “I didn’t know. Please go on.” “There isn’t much more, really,” said Eidling, seeming suddenly very small again. “All of what I’ve told you has happened in the last few days. It was yesterday when I returned to the lab and found it empty.” “Any data missing?” said Cross. “Oh, no,” said Eidling. “Everything was as I left it.” “But there was no sign of Dr. Van Wyck?” Eidling shook his head feebly. “Dr. Eidling,” said Cross after tapping out his final notes. “Is there something you’re not telling me about all this?” “I- no-,” said the little man blinking dully back at him. “Why do you ask?” “Standard question,” said Cross. “Is there?” “No,” said Eidling. “Great,” said Cross. “Then, I have one last one for you.” Eidling waited for it like a man before a firing squad. “Why involve the Advocacy in this at all? Why not Behl’s security or the P.A.P.D.?” “Why,” said Eidling with the total shock of someone who had honestly not considered those alternatives. “Because of The Charter.” He was referring, of course, to the charter of The Human/Corporate Advocacy of which Cross was an agent. The Advocacy had been set up in The Free Zone as a buffer between the citizens who lived in The Zone and the four Megacorps that controlled it. Advocates handled disputes between the two groups. The work was challenging, paid reasonably well and those who were faint of heart or, worse, slow witted needed not apply. The Advocacy’s charter was simple, just a credo really– No Advocate through negligence, dereliction or willful activity may allow a citizen to be