A Quantum Murder

"And do you think you can cure them?"

"The term we use now is behavioural reorientation. And yes, we've had some success. There's a lot of work still to be done, naturally."

"What about public acceptance?"

She grimaced in defeat. "Yes, we anticipate a major problem in that area. It would be politically difficult releasing them back into the community after the treatment is complete."

"Was Liam Bursken one of the two who tried to escape?" Greg asked.

"No."

"Has he ever tried?"

"Again, no. He's kept in solitary the whole time. Even by our standards, he's considered extremely dangerous. We ca

"No honour amongst thieves any more, eh?"

"These aren't thieves, Greg. They are very sick people."

"Are you a doctor?"

"A psychiatrist, yes."

They climbed a staircase to the second floor. Greg mulled over what she had said. A professional liberal, he decided, she had too much faith in people. Maybe too much faith in her profession as well if she believed therapy could effect complete cures. It couldn't, papering over the cracks was the best anyone could ever hope for, he knew. But then the gland did give him an advantage, allowing him to glimpse the true workings of the mind.

"So why do you want to work here?" he asked as they started off down another corridor.

She gave him a brief grin. "I didn't know I was the one you wanted to question."

"You don't have to answer."

"I don't mind. I'm here because this is the cutting edge of behavioural research, Greg. And the money is good."

"I've never heard anyone say that about civil service pay before."

"I don't work for the government. The Centre was built by the Berkeley company, they run it under licence from the Home Office. And they also fund the behavioural reorientation research project, which is my field."

"That explains a lot. I didn't think the Home Office had the kind of resources to pay for a place like this."

Stephanie shrugged noncommittally, and opened the door into the director's suite. There was a secretary in the outer office, busy with a terminal. She glanced up, and keyed an intercom.

"Go straight through," she said.

The office was at odds with the rest of the Centre. Wall units, desk, and conference table were all customized blackwood, ancient maps and several diplomas hung on the wall, louvre blinds stretched across the picture window, blocking the view, It was definitely a senior management enclave, its occupier claiming every perk and entitlement allowed for in the corporate rule book.

Dr James MacLe

"For the record, and before we say anything else, I'd like to state quite categorically that Liam Bursken did not slip out for a night, it simply isn't possible," MacLe

His ma

"From what I've seen so far, I'd say the Centre looks pretty secure," Greg said.

"Good, excellent." MacLe

Greg settled back into the bouncy cushioning. "I will have to ask Bursken himself."

"I understand completely. Stephanie will arrange your interview. Make as many checks as you like. I like to think our record is flawless."

"Thank you, I'm sure it is."

Stephanie leant over the desk and muttered into the intercom, then came and sat at the table next to the settee.

"Right, so how can we help?" MacLe

"As you probably saw in the newscasts, I'm a gland psychic appointed to the Kitchener inquiry by the Home Office."

MacLe

"Suppose you fill me in on some background. What exactly is this behavioural reorientation work you're doing here?"

"You know what kind of inmates we hold here?"

"Yeah. That's why I'm so interested in meeting Liam Bursken. I saw the holograms of Kitchener in situ. Tell you, it was plain butchery. I've seen atrocities in battle, and not just committed by the other side. But the kind of mind which perpetrated that was way outside my experience. I want to know what it looks like."

MacLe

"That sort of everyday crime is mostly a result of sociological conditioning; broadly speaking, solvable if they were given better housing, improved education, a good job, stable home environment, etc. — it's a process for social workers and parole officers—whereas the Centre's inmates probably had those advantages before they came in. They do tend to have reasonable IQs, steady jobs, sometimes even families."

"Do any of them have exceptional IQs?" Greg asked.

MacLe

"Kitchener's students are all very bright people."

"Ah, I see, yes."

"No one here has anything above average intelligence," Stephanie a

"No, that's all right," Greg said.

"What we are trying to do at Stocken," MacLe

"Brainwashing?"

"Absolutely not."

"It sounds like it."

MacLe

"How?"

"Have you heard of educational laser paradigms?"

"No," Greg said drily.

"It's an idea which goes back several decades. It was the subject of my doctoral thesis. I started off in high-density data-handling techniques, but got sidetracked. Educational paradigms were so much more interesting. They are the biological equivalent of computer programs. You can literally load subject matter into the human brain as though you were squirting bytes into a memory core. Once perfected, there will be no need for schools or universities. You will be given all the knowledge you require in a single burst of light, sending the information through the optic nerve to imprint directly on the brain." MacLe