Permutation City

'Yes.'

'I'm Detective-Sergeant Hayden. Computer Fraud Squad. I'd like to ask you a few questions, if that's convenient.'

Maria rescanned for guilty secrets; still no trace -- but she would have preferred a visitor from Homicide or Armed Robbery, someone who'd clearly come to the wrong house. She said, 'Yes, of course. Come in.' Then, as she backed away from the door, 'Ah -- I nearly forgot, I suppose I should verify . . . ?'

Hayden, with a thin smile of blatantly insincere approval, let Maria plug her notepad into the socket of her Police Department badge. The notepad beeped cheerfully; the badge knew the private code which matched the current public key being broadcast by the Department.

Seated in the living room, Hayden got straight to the point. She displayed a picture on her notepad.

'Do you know this man?'

Maria cleared her throat. 'Yes. His name's Paul Durham. I'm . . . working for him. He's given me some contract programming.' She felt no surprise; just the jolt of being brought down to earth. Of course the Fraud Squad were interested in Durham. Of course the whole fantasy of the last three months was about to unravel before her eyes. Aden had warned her. She'd known it herself. It was a dream contract, too good to be true.

An instant later, though, she backed away from that reaction, furious with herself. Durham had paid the money into the trust fund, hadn't he? He'd met the costs of her new JSN account. He hadn't cheated her. Too good to be true was idiot fatalism. Two consenting adults had kept all their promises to each other; the fact that no outsider would understand the transaction didn't make it a crime. And after all he'd done for her, at the very least she owed him the benefit of the doubt.

Hayden said, 'What kind of 'contract programming'?'

Maria did her best to explain without taking all night. Hayden was -- not surprisingly -- reasonably computer literate, and even knew what a cellular automaton was, but either she hadn't heard of the Autoverse, or she wanted to hear it all again from Maria.

'So you believe this man's paying you thirty thousand dollars . . . to help him state his position on a purely theoretical question about artificial life?'

Maria tried not to sound defensive. 'I've spent tens of thousands of dollars on the Autoverse, myself. It's like a lot of other hobbies; it's a world unto itself. People can get obsessive, extravagant. It's no stranger than . . . building model airplanes. Or reenacting battles from the American Civil War.'

Hayden didn't argue the point, but she seemed unmoved by the comparisons. 'Did you know that Paul Durham sold insurance to Copies?'

'I knew he was an insurance salesman. He told me that himself. Just because he's not a professional programmer doesn't mean he can't --'

'Did you know he was also trying to sell his clients shares in some kind of sanctuary? A place to go -- or to send a clone -- in case the political climate turned against them?'

Maria blinked. 'No. What do you mean -- a sanctuary? A privately owned supercomputer? He's been trying to raise money, form a consortium . . . ?'

Hayden said flatly, 'He's certainly raising money -- but I doubt he'll ever raise enough to purchase the kind of hardware he'd need for the kind of service he's offering.'

'So, what are you accusing him of doing? Embarking on a business venture which you don't happen to believe will be successful?' Hayden said nothing. 'Have you spoken to him about this? There might be a simple explanation for whatever you've been told. Some senile Copy might have taken his sales pitch for a perpetuity fund the wrong way.' Senile Copy? Well . . . some postdementia scan file might have proved resistant to the cognitive repair algorithms.

Hayden said, 'Of course we've spoken to him. He's refused to cooperate, he won't discuss the matter. That's why we're hoping you'll be able to assist us.'

Maria's defiant optimism wavered. If Durham had nothing to hide, why would he refuse to defend himself?

She said, 'I don't see how I can help you. If you think he's been misleading his clients, go talk to his clients. It's their testimony you need, not mine.'

There was an awkward pause, then Hayden said, 'The testimony of a Copy has no standing; legally, they're just another kind of computer software.'

Maria opened her mouth, then realized that any excuse she offered would only make her sound more foolish. She salvaged some pride with the silent observation that the legal position of Copies was so farcical that any sane person could have trouble keeping it in mind.

Hayden continued. 'Durham could be charged with defrauding the executors of the estates, by means of supplying misleading data to the software they use to advise them. There are precedents for that; it's like publishing false prospectus information that causes automated share-buying programs to buy your stock. But there's still the question of evidence. We can interview Copies as an informal source of information, to guide an investigation, but nothing they say will stand up in court.'

Maria recalled an episode of The Unclear Family where a similar problem had arisen. Babette and Larry Unclear had witnessed bank accounts being pilfered, when the relevant data trail had -- inexplicably -- taken solid form as an accusing tableau of ice-sculptures in their cyber-suburban backyard. She couldn't recall exactly how the plot had turned out; ten-year-old Leroy had probably done something marginally illegal, but morally unimpeachable, to trick the thieves into giving themselves away to the authorities . . .

She said, 'I don't know what you expect me to tell you. Durham hasn't defrauded me. And I don't know anything about this scheme.'

'But you're working on it with him.'

'I certainly am not!'

Hayden said drily, 'You're designing a planet for him. What do you think that's for?'

Maria stared at her blankly for a second, then almost laughed. 'I'm sorry, I can't have explained things very well. I'm designing a planet that 'could' exist in the Autoverse, in the broadest sense of the word. It's a mathematical possibility. But it's too large to be run on a real computer. It's not some VR --'

Hayden cut her off. 'I understand that perfectly. That doesn't mean Durham's clients would have grasped the distinction. Technical details about the Autoverse aren't exactly general knowledge.'

True. Maria hesitated. But --

'It still makes no sense. For a start, these people would have advisers, researchers, who'd tell them that anyone promising them an Autoverse planet was full of shit. And why would Durham offer them an Autoverse planet -- covered in primordial slime -- when he could offer them a standard set of VR environments which would be a thousand times more attractive and a thousand times more plausible?'

'I believe he's offering them both. He's hired an architect in the US to work on the VR part.'

'But why both? Why not just VR? You couldn't fit a single Copy into the Autoverse -- and if you did, it would die on the spot. It would take fifty or sixty years of research to translate human biochemistry into Autoverse terms.'

'They wouldn't know that.'

'They could find out in ten seconds flat. Forget about advisers; it would take one call to a knowledge miner, total cost five dollars. So why tell a lie that could be so easily uncovered? What's the advantage -- from a Copy's point of view -- of an Autoverse planet over patchwork VR?'

Hayden was unfazed. 'You're the Autoverse expert. So you tell me.'

'I don't know.' Maria stood up. She was beginning to feel claustrophobic; she hated having strangers in the house. 'Can I get you something to drink? Tea? Coffee?'

'No. But you go ahead --'

Maria shook her head and sat down again; she had a feeling that if she went into the kitchen, she wouldn't want to return.

She couldn't see why Durham would refuse to talk to the police, unless he was involved in something dubious enough to have him thrown out of his job, at the very least. Fuck him. He might not have intended to cheat her, but he'd screwed her nonetheless. She wouldn't get a cent for the work she'd