Peter looked up at this, his eyes darting around the apartment, looking at the door, at Helen. Judy shifted just a little, drawing his attention back to herself. Back to her white skin, her black kimono. Back to the collar falling away from her neck, exposing the long white curve leading up from her smooth back to be lost beneath the elaborate black design of her hair. When she knew she had his full attention, Judy lowered her voice a little more.

“Now, Peter Onethirteen. Do you understand that you are about to begin corrective therapy as part of the Social Care contract?”

He crossed his arms and gazed at the floor, looking like a petulant child.

“There are three copies of me. Will they all be punished?”

Slowly Judy knelt down before him. Her black hair, so smooth and shiny, banded in shades of violet under the light like a blackbird’s wing. She reached out and took both of his hands in hers.

“This is not punishment, Peter,” she crooned. “That will be decided upon later by the EA. I’m neither qualified nor interested in deciding punishment. My talent lies in healing, and we begin the first step of that process today.”

Peter snatched his hands away. “Why should I be punished? I thought that this was supposed to be an enlightened society.”

Helen was incensed. How dare this fat, pathetic little man expect the understanding of an enlightened society when it was he who had imprisoned her in that processing space? The words that leapt to her lips were stilled as she realized that Judy had turned to stare at her. She knew that Helen was about to lose her temper. She held Helen’s gaze, calming her. When Helen regained control of herself, Judy turned back to face Peter.

“Peter, the threat of punishment will be enough to prevent some individuals from following in your crimes. That’s part of the reason that you will be punished. Now, I want you to swallow this.”

She pulled her left hand from her sleeve and held it out towards him, the palm facing upwards. Helen could just make out a tiny red dot lying upon it. Was it maybe a deeper red than the pill that Judy had invited her to swallow earlier, outside the door?

“No,” Peter said, entranced by the little red pill. “You can’t make me.”

Helen looked on, breathless, wondering what would happen next. Judy knelt on the floor before Peter, her little feet pressing into her round bottom, back braced by the thick obi she wore around her waist, hair immaculate, the black rod of her console a horizontal line emerging from the complicated knot at the back. Helen was certain that all Judy did was stare into Peter’s eyes…

“Okay,” Peter said suddenly. Shivering, he reached out and pressed his finger onto the little red dot. “I’ll take it,” he said, and placed it in his mouth. He swallowed.

“Good,” Judy said. “Now, before there can be repentance there must be understanding. Before punishment there must also be understanding, for without understanding, all we have is vengeance. Let us begin.”

Peter gave a hesitant nod.

Judy said nothing. Helen moved around so she could see them both better. The pair seemed to be locked in a silent conversation, Judy’s impassive stare conveying something that caused Peter’s lower lip to begin trembling. There was a tension in the room: Helen could feel it filling the apartment; it tarnished the gilt of the antique picture frames that hung on the wall; it brushed on the rich fabric of the furniture coverings.

When it seemed like the tension could build no longer, Judy spoke at last. “Why were you working on the ship, Peter?”

“I told you. To help keep the TM working. There was no AI on that ship.”

“But why not?”

“You don’t have to have an AI on a ship, do you?”

“That’s not what I asked.”

There was a long pause. Peter was sweating.

“You know why we didn’t have an AI.”

Helen had guessed the answer.

“I want you to say it,” Judy said.

Peter rubbed his forehead with his pajama sleeve.

“Okay, sometimes we wanted to keep a lid on what we were doing. Competitive advantage. Nothing illegal.”

“But you were doing something illegal, weren’t you, Peter? You built the processing space in which those personality constructs were illegally imprisoned.”

“I thought they were in there of their own volition!”

Again, Judy didn’t speak, simply held Peter’s gaze, and Helen felt a little stirring inside her. The red pill that Judy had handed to her outside the door had heightened her senses, too. Judy was guiding him as to what to think and feel. Helen was catching the edge of it. It was powerful stuff. Peter cracked.

“Okay,” he said. “I guessed, but I didn’t want to know. I thought that by not being told directly, by allowing myself to believe there was maybe nothing wrong going on, I would somehow be absolved of any connection to the crime. That was wrong of me.”

Judy smiled. It looked sinister on her black-and-white face.

“Good, Peter, good. You see, I’m trying to get a picture of whether or not you are a user of the Private Network. I don’t think you are, you know. I think you were on that ship for other reasons. Go on, tell me. What were they?”

Peter waved his hand around his apartment.

“For this. I like nice things. That takes money.”

Judy frowned. “But everyone can have nice things, Peter. You know that.”

Peter shook his head. He was trembling now. Trembling with something that almost felt like righteousness.

“But these are the originals. There aren’t that many of them left. A copy isn’t good enough. That mirror on the wall, it’s an original Lebec.”

Judy looked at it. She looked back at Peter.

“But it isn’t, Peter. Remember where you are…”

He shook his head violently.

“You don’t understand, Judy. It may just be a shadow of the Lebec that was made in the atomic world, but that doesn’t matter. What matters is that shadow Lebec is owned by Peter Onethirteen. Only he had the taste and the money to buy it.”

Helen was so engrossed in watching Peter’s suddenly animated face, she didn’t realize for a moment that Judy had turned to stare at her. When Helen did, she flinched, but Judy appeared not to notice.

“There you are, Helen,” she said calmly. “It always comes back to this: possession. Because possession disturbs the ideal of equality by making one object subordinate to another. Remember that.”

She turned back to face Peter.

“So, Peter, you operated beyond the law on those flights in order to get the money to acquire nice things. Is that the only reason?”

“No,” said Peter, “there was another reason, and you know it. I can feel the recognition in you. This pill is helping, isn’t it?” He seemed to be gaining confidence. He had found a confidante, a kindred spirit. “Yes, you feel it, too.” He nodded, pleased. “We both know what it’s like, knowing that you’re the best at something.”

Judy’s face remained impassive. Peter held her gaze.

“Don’t deny it, Judy. You know you’re the best at what you do, and you do what you do because you’re the best.”

“I don’t deny it, Peter.”

“Then you know what I mean.”

Helen shifted uneasily on the coffee table. She wasn’t sure what she had expected in the course of an MTPH session. Certainly not this. She sensed that something extra was being exchanged between Peter and Judy, something she was not part of. Peter seemed to be becoming more self-confident, and something told her he should not be. Judy was setting him up.

“Do you recognize this woman?” Judy said suddenly.

With a start, Helen realized that Judy was pointing at her.

“No,” Peter said.

“Her name is Helen. She was one of the commodity personalities you transferred into the processing space before launching it on its way across the solar system.”

Peter was examining Helen now, his expression one of morbid fascination. He rubbed a finger across his upper lip. He was sweating again.