Chương 18: Special Demonstrations Committee

Murder became a major concern soon after the system of absorbing energy through killing was established. Overly ambitious individuals, intoxicated by their own power, began killing indiscriminately. That was why the Task Force was established - drones deployed, swift justice delivered, public anger channelled into something organised. More and more people also adopted animal partners, so they were never truly alone.

- From the memoirs of Peace Heavyarm, Founder of the Task Force Professor Scal's rules came at the start of class, efficient and crisp, stated many times before and with no interest in sounding warmer than they were. No questions while he was talking. Three questions per person per session. No study materials - references only, everything else was notes and attention. Questions would be directed at individuals. If you didn't know the answer, say so. Don't guess.

He then spent two minutes on his bewilderment at the administrative decision to combine information science and space science into a single subject. They were related, in the way most things were related if you looked broadly enough, but that did not mean they belonged in the same room. He would be teaching the IT half; Professor Seiger would handle the space science. They should not confuse the two.

"Everything is connected," he said, by way of transition.

"The interfaces, the IoT, the doors, the drones, everything you interact with in a day runs on systems talking to each other. You there - glasses." He pointed at Kara's roommate without ceremony.

"What are the risks of having everything connected?" His roommate answered without hesitation - security, the vulnerability of a networked system to a single point of compromise, the potential for cascading access if one node was breached. Professor Scal looked at him for a moment.

"Fancy that. One who actually knows something." He turned back to the room.

"Security is indeed the primary concern. No network on Earth has been breached in over a century. In this course you will learn why that is and how to maintain it. Including your private interface - it cannot be manipulated from outside, but a skilled enough operator can read it. You will learn to prevent that." His roommate was practically luminous beside him. Kara glanced at him. Glasses boy. It would do for now.

The class proceeded with Professor Scal calling on students at random, asking questions, and responding to guesses with a silence that managed to convey more disapproval than any comment would have. Several egos were visibly affected. When Kara was called on once, he said he didn't know. Professor Scal moved on without comment, though the name he used when he called on Kara had lodged somewhere in his awareness, and he turned it over briefly before letting it go.

"Alright, runts. Case study tonight. Come prepared the day after tomorrow." He was gone before the sentence had fully finished. Kara exhaled.

"Phew." He looked at his roommate.

"That was intense. I'm lucky I didn't try to guess anything. I'm going to have to come considerably better prepared next time." He paused.

"Unlike a certain glasses boy I know. You answered quite a few of his questions. He seemed - not displeased." His roommate gave a sheepish smile, trying to be modest about something he was clearly very pleased about.

"He's something of a cult figure in our community. His work in interface architecture - we've been following it for years. To have him find you adequate is - well. It's something." He stood, gathering his things.

"Anyway. Lunch. Come on, tusk boy."

"Tusk boy." Kara stood.

"Why that one. Tiger boy would've been better. Winged boy, even."

"Tusk boy it is."

"Anyway, congratulations. Acknowledgement from someone you admire is worth something." His roommate smiled at that, and they headed for the cafeteria. The cafeteria coral was low and wide, all ground floor, its interior large enough that it didn't feel crowded even with most of the University's lunch traffic moving through it.

Dozens of stalls lined the space, each one representing a different Area's cuisine - the full spread of what Earth ate, from the intensely regional to the broadly hybrid, side by side in a way that would have been geographically impossible anywhere else. At the far end, set slightly apart from the rest, was a single stall whose prices made Kara feel ambitious.

"That one you pay for," his roommate noted.

"Other planets. Students mostly go there for special occasions. Everything else is free." Kara had not eaten proper Earth food in over three years. He had not fully understood how much this would matter until the smell of it reached him and his body communicated a clear preference.

"Area 11. Whatever they've got."

"Anything works for me." If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it. He got tandoori roti and chicken curry. His roommate got a Banh Mi. They found a small corner table and sat down, and the meal was, by any reasonable measure, one of the better things that had happened to Kara since he returned.

"So what are you doing this afternoon?" his roommate asked between bites.

"No idea. Wander, probably. You?"

"One more class. But - have you checked the announcements? Committee orientation tonight."

"What's that?" His roommate looked at him with fond exasperation, having already accepted that his new friend did not check the announcements and decided to work with that.

"Go read it. I'll find you back at the room after my class." He left. Kara finished his curry, took a moment to appreciate it properly, and headed back. Committee orientation, it turned out, was exactly what it sounded like - each of the University's committees sending a representative to introduce themselves to the new intake and make their pitch. Kara read through the list while sitting on his bed, the interface hovering in front of him. Disciplinary committee.

Most popular, most powerful - essentially the University's internal police force, and apparently a well-worn path into the Task Force. He moved past that one without deliberation. Alumni committee - relationships with graduates, events, networks. He paused here. Interesting. Students' interests committee - clubs, coordination, infrastructure for student-run activities. Also interesting. Media committee, events committee, sports committee, food committee - each with their obvious function, each worth hearing out.

Animal affairs committee. He paused longer here. External affairs committee - liaison with entities outside the University. He read this one twice. And finally, the special demonstrations committee. Responsible for arranging practical demonstrations from powerful individuals - bringing in people of significance for students to observe and learn from. The description was brief and the committee's reputation, from what he could gather between the lines of the announcement, was that brief was entirely in character.

He put the interface down and thought about it. His roommate returned, changed, and they went down together. Eleven people on the stage. Ten of them had the energy of people who had prepared remarks in advance and intended to deliver them. The disciplinary committee had sent two, which already said something. The disciplinary committee representatives were identifiable before they spoke. Immaculate, matching black and white, sashes, shoes that had clearly been introduced to a polishing cloth that morning.

They moved to the centre in step, a formation practised long enough that it had become natural. The male representative had a voice he had clearly worked on.

"Hello, freshers. I'm Powerbull, student head of the disciplinary committee. With me is Lena, our vice-head." Kara and his roommate exchanged a glance. The alias had clearly been chosen with the ambitions of someone who had known, from a young age, exactly which committee they wanted to lead. Lena took over. Clear, composed, delivering a speech whose effect she very well knew. Discipline as the foundation of progress. Power without direction as a net negative. The committee as guide rather than enforcer.

And then, cleanly, the fact that the disciplinary committee sent more students directly into the Task Force each year than any other pathway in any University on Earth. Something shifted in the room at that.

"Still out," his roommate said, quietly.

"But I understand the room better now."

"Still out," Kara confirmed. The alumni committee representative was earnest and thorough, and either the network he described was impressive or he had done excellent preparation, possibly both. But he was bland in the way that made it difficult to imagine working alongside him week after week, which was its own kind of information. Kara moved him to the maybe column and left him there.

The students' interests committee representative was good - clear about the freedom it offered, honest about the coordination work involved, concrete about what joining actually meant in terms of hours and output. Kara ticked that one. The animal affairs committee representative spoke about the University's animal partners program, the care coordination between students and their bonded animals, the work with creatures that weren't formally partnered but lived within the University's ecosystem.

He ticked that one too, and felt, briefly, the pull of three years spent surrounded by things that were extraordinary and which he had apparently missed more than he had known. Media, events, sports, food, external affairs - all delivered competently, none landing with much force. Then the last representative walked to the stage. Average height. Athletic.

Her mask was asymmetrical - broader at the top right, with an arrangement of golden leaves over one eye, the rest a collision of blues and deep oranges that managed to look like a deliberate balance rather than a clash of fire and water. It was the best mask in the room, and Kara had the sense she had designed it herself. She did not arrange herself at the podium the way the others had. She stood slightly to the side of it, which was a small thing that produced an outsized effect on how she occupied the stage.

"We work with some of the most powerful and influential people on this planet." She began without preamble, her voice level and without performance, stating facts rather than making a case.

"If you can't handle that, don't apply. If you think you can, you'd better be able to justify it in the trials." She stepped back. That was it. No perks. No elaboration. No bench location for queries. The thousand questions her thirty seconds had generated would apparently be resolving themselves through other means.

"I'm changing my mind," his roommate said.

"I'm applying for a committee after all." Kara understood completely. He thought about what she had said and what it meant in practical terms - the access, the network, the kind of doors that opened when you were regularly in rooms with the most influential people on Earth. He thought about what those doors might lead to, and what he was looking for, and how much faster certain searches moved when you were standing in the right places. He added the special demonstrations committee to his list.

He was going to need to think carefully about how he presented himself in those trials.