Tom Garret was visibly excited to meet someone who knew what he was talking about when he described the neurological aspects of facial recognition.
‘The old idea of the photofit was based on this primitive notion that we see faces as a collection of bits – blue eyes, a large nose, bushy eyebrows, a sharp chin – and when we put them together we have a face we recognize. But that’s not how we really see faces and that’s why photofit reconstructions look ridiculous.’
‘Not exactly ridiculous,’ said Karlsson.
‘Comical. And almost useless. As you know’ – and now he turned firmly towards Frieda – ‘the
‘Excellent.’
Frieda leaned more closely towards Garret’s monitor.
Garret continued talking about evolutionary facial composite systems and genetic algorithms until Karlsson coughed and reminded them that Rosalind Teale was sitting outside. ‘Is it all right if we stay here?’ he said.
‘That’s fine,’ said Frieda. ‘But please leave everything to me.’
Frieda had read the file and seen photographs but she was still shocked by Rose Teale’s appearance. She looked like someone who had suffered a traumatic episode the previous day, not more than twenty years in the past. Had this woman not received any help? Had she not been attended to? Rose glanced around her, at Garret, who was tapping at a keyboard and didn’t look at her; at Karlsson, who was leaning on the wall with his arms folded. When Frieda stepped forward and introduced herself, she didn’t ask questions, just let herself be led across the room and placed in a chair. Frieda sat opposite her. Karlsson had said that it might make Rose feel better to be useful. Looking at the passive, defeated woman in front of her, Frieda doubted that.
‘I’ve done everything,’ she said. ‘I’ve tried to remember. I’ve gone over and over it. There’s nothing left.’
‘I know,’ said Frieda. ‘You’ve done everything you possibly could.’
‘So why am I here?’
‘There are ways of accessing things in your mind that you don’t know are there. It’s nothing magical. More like opening an old filing cabinet that you’d forgotten about. I’m not going to ask you any questions,’ said Frieda, ‘and none of us expects anything of you. I just want you to bear with me for a moment. Can you do that?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I’d like us to try something. I don’t want you to think about it. Just do as I say.’ Frieda now let her voice become softer. ‘I know that you’re probably feeling tense, coming into a police station and talking to people you don’t know, but I’d like you to sit comfortably and relax as if someone was going to read you a story. I want you to close your eyes.’
Rose looked distrustful. Her eyes flickered towards Karlsson. He remained impassive. ‘All right.’ She closed her eyes.
‘I want you to think back to that day,’ said Frieda. ‘I want you to go back there and imagine yourself leaving school, walking along the pavements, crossing the road, looking at shops, people, cars. Don’t say anything. Just imagine yourself doing it.’
Frieda looked at the young woman’s face, the fine lines at the corners of her eyes, the flickering eyelids. She waited for a minute. Two minutes. She leaned forward and spoke even more quietly, almost in a whisper. ‘Don’t say anything, Rose. Don’t try and remember anything. I want you to do something for me. Just imagine a woman. Young or middle-aged. You decide.’ Frieda saw Rose’s features flicker in puzzlement. ‘Just do it,’ she continued. ‘Don’t worry about it. Don’t even think about it. Just think of a woman. Any woman, whoever comes into your head. Maybe she’s standing on the edge of the pavement, by the kerb. She’s just got out of a car and she’s looking around. Put her in the scene with you. Look at her. Can you do that?’
‘All right.’
‘Have you done it?’
‘Yes.’
‘Wait,’ said Frieda. ‘Wait and look at her. Look at the woman who came into your head. Remember what she looks like.’
A minute passed. Frieda saw that Karlsson was frowning at her. She ignored him. ‘All right,’ she said. ‘You can open your eyes now.’
Rose blinked, like someone who had just woken and was dazzled by the light.
‘I want you to go over and sit with Tom and he’s going to show you something.’
Tom Garret stood up and gestured Rose into the chair he’d been sitting in. As she sat down, he made a questioning face at Frieda as if to ask, Is this for real?
‘Go on,’ said Frieda.
He gave a shrug. On the screen was a grid showing eighteen female faces.
‘None of them look like her,’ said Rose.
‘They’re random,’ said Tom. ‘They’re not meant to look like her. What I want you to do is to click on the six that feel most like her. You should do it quickly without thinking too hard. Don’t worry. There’s no right or wrong answer. It’s not a test.’
‘What’s the point of this?’
‘It’s just an exercise,’ Frieda told her. ‘I want to see what happens.’
Rose gave a sigh, like someone giving in reluctantly. She put her hand on the mouse and moved the cursor around.
‘None of them are like her,’ she repeated.
‘Choose the ones that are closest,’ said Tom. ‘Or the ones that are least unlike.’
‘All right.’ She clicked the cursor on one face, the narrowest, then on another, then another, until six were highlighted. ‘Is that it?’
‘Now click “done”,’ said Tom.
She did so and the screen refilled with eighteen new faces.
‘What are these?’ Rose asked.
‘These are generated from the six you chose,’ said Tom. ‘Now choose six more.’
She went through the process again, then again and again, over and over. Occasionally she stopped and closed her eyes before continuing. Looking over her shoulder, Frieda could see a change gradually occurring. A crowd of strangers was gradually evolving into a family group whose resemblance grew stronger and stronger. The face became thinner, the cheekbones more prominent, the almond shape of the eyes more pronounced. After twelve generations, the faces didn’t just look like a family but siblings, and after two more generations they were almost identical.
‘Choose one,’ said Tom.
‘They’re almost the same.’ Rose hesitated. The cursor wavered around the screen before landing on one of the faces. ‘That’s it.’
‘That’s the face you saw?’ said Frieda.
‘I didn’t
Now Karlsson came over and looked at the image. ‘What about the hair?’ he asked.
‘I didn’t see the hair. The face I made up was wearing a scarf.’
‘I can do a scarf.’ Tom clicked on a drop-down menu and the face appeared eighteen times with different kinds of scarf. Rose pointed at one.
‘Is that it?’ said Frieda.
‘A bit,’ said Rose. ‘It’s quite like it, I think.’
‘That’s good, Rose,’ said Frieda. ‘You’ve done really well. Thank you very much.’
‘What do you mean I’ve done well?’
‘I know it was hard for you, going back there. That took courage.’
‘I haven’t been back there. I didn’t remember anything. I just pictured a face and then you tried to re-create it. It’s clever but I don’t see how it helps you.’
‘We’ll see. Could you wait outside for a moment?’
Karlsson waited until Rose was safely outside the room and the door was closed. ‘What was that about?’
