他们最终找上她，不是在深夜里用黑布袋兜头把她套住，也不是派MTF在她回家的路上把她掳走，更不是咖啡里的镇静剂，或者工作电脑上的潜意识指令，甚至不是一名站点警卫，戴手套的双手一只指引她走向拘留室，另一只轻轻搁在皮套里的电击枪上。当他们最终找上艾伦·奥康纳Ellen O'Connor时，是一个秃顶、微微驼背的男人，近乎抱歉地敲响她办公室敞开的大门。

(相关资料图)

“奥康纳特工，我是布莱恩·帕克斯Brian Parkes博士。我们想跟你谈谈……呃，你使用基金会访问代码时的一些违规行为。”

这姿态是如此无害，以至于她的第一个想法是，谁还会戴棕色的领结啊？第二个则是，等等——“我们”是谁？

“也许我们可以到我的办公室去谈，奥康纳特工？”

在电梯里，帕克斯博士刷了他的门卡，然后同时按下最底部两层的按钮。电梯开始缓缓下降，艾伦的心也沉了下去。她早就知道会有这么一天——可能是任何时候，而且只会早不会迟。你不可能一直窥看基金会的秘密而指望他们不会发现。但她还是没有罢手。她需要找出答案，需要知晓。

电梯停下了，敞开的门背后是一个陌生的楼层。这里的走廊看起来比较旧，装潢风格略有些过时。但是艾伦可以听到办公室的门内传来处理器的冷却风扇的嗡鸣声，透过其中一扇门，她瞥到了服务器堆栈——几百层薄薄的服务器堆成的几十座高塔。不管这是什么地方，他们显然不缺技术。

帕克斯博士停下脚步，转身引导她走向一间小办公室里的一把椅子。这不是办公室，在门关上时，艾伦意识到，这是审讯室。

“那么，奥康纳特工，我们是不是该从你的工作经历开始说起？为了记录，你懂的。”

“呃，好吧。你要我从哪里……”

“你在FBI工作时就展现出了高超的分析技能，但你渐渐执着于那些只有你才观察得到的规律。最终，你在向副部长报告时坚称某些恐怖组织在通信时肯定使用了某种超现代技术，就连国家安全局都无法对其进行拦截。这件事的收场不太好看，你的名声也一落千丈。幸运的是，有位新的部长找上了你，这个人来自一个你从未听说过的部门。”

帕克斯博士低头看着面前的文件，这个马尼拉纸信封在房间里的荧光灯映照下呈现病态的黄色。

“你刚到UIU那段时间同样表现非常优秀，但还是同样，你做得太过头了。你看见调查被打入冷宫，各种看似合理的解释凑到一起就出现漏洞。这不光发生在你的案子上，还有其他特工的案子，以及历史卷宗。你收集到的证据开始勾勒出另一个组织的存在，这个组织干涉着UIU的管辖权，为自己的目的抹消你们的证据。你推测你的上级一定知道这个组织，并担任了它的联络人。但你还没来得及完成报告，FBI就找理由开除了你——你我都知道那理由是瞎编的。现在，你已经在为当时你调查的那个组织效力。”

帕克斯博士迎向艾伦注视的目光。

“你看出这其中的规律了吗，奥康纳特工？你的技能总是会让你在工作的地方陷入麻烦。”

“我可以解释的，”艾伦开口。

“不，你不能，”帕克斯博士打断了她。“我来解释。你只需要回答我的问题。告诉我，在这里工作了这么久之后，你觉得基金会的目的是什么？”

“呃，它的目的是……呃，收容异常的物品和实体，确保它们被控制住，保护公众免受它们的异常效应的影响。”

“别装天真了。放下培训视频的那一套，奥康纳特工——基金会的目的是什么？”

艾伦不清楚该怎样回应。为什么要问这么笼统的问题？如果他们已经知道她干了什么，为什么不立刻处罚她？这场审讯有种不真实感，就像在做戏。但既然她已经注定完蛋，那就没什么理由隐瞒自己的看法了。

“它的目的，”她说，“是确保现实维持常态。”

“‘维持常态’？”帕克斯博士显然并不信服。“很多异常存在的时间远远长于基金会本身。由谁来决定什么是现实，什么是常态？”

“基金会来决定。也就是说，我想大概是O5议会吧。”

“他们又凭什么有权决定？”

“呃，不凭什么。这个权利不是谁授予基金会的，而是我们自己承担起来的。没人给过我们许可，也没人控制我们，除了我们自己。”

“让某些完全难以理解的人物来定义你的现实，你对此没有意见吗？”

“不完全是。但我明白基金会是怎样工作的，也知道它的益处。我支持O5试图实现的目标。”

帕克斯博士揉了揉鼻梁，把眼镜向上推了推，又转回来望着桌子对面。“你所谓的‘支持’指的是以违背信息安全协议的方式访问了几百份收容文档？”

艾伦感到手心在冒汗，心跳在加速。她努力集中精神。

“首先你要知道——”

“不。我们知道你不是一个人干的。你在信息安全部的内线已经受到了处罚。我们知道你是怎么做的。我们有兴趣的只是你为什么要这么做。”

“好吧。”艾伦深吸了口气。“你知道我是那个MC&D特遣队的，是吧？”

“你的档案上说你和另几位分析师曾经成功地预测过几次他们的行动。”

“我在研究我们从他们那里回收的一些物品，有些地方不对劲。865和1571都是MC&D的物品，但那把枪是我们最近几年才收容的，而钱包早在八十年代就收容了。为什么它们的编号却是反着来的？”

就算是在这样的房间里，对象是这样一个人，谈论这个问题还是给她带来了早晨第一杯咖啡般的冲击。“这是个微不足道的细节，但却没人能给它一个恰当的解释——他们告诉我，SCP编号是由系统分配的。但是系统也应该讲道理——它应该按照某种法则来运作。我需要知道那是什么样的法则。”

“你了解到了什么呢？”

艾伦突然想到了什么，脸色一沉。“等一下，萨姆Sam没事吧？你刚才说‘处罚’，那到底是——”

“奥康纳特工，回答我的问题。”帕克斯博士不为所动。

“好吧。我发现事实跟他们想的不一样，并没有那样一个系统。萨姆帮助我看到了文字背后，看到了页面的源代码，编辑历史，等等等等。我发现基金会里还存在着另一个部门——但我见过的任何列表里都没有它。我想，你一定就是替这个部门工作的。”

桌子对面的男人缓缓地眨了眨眼，脸色仍然平静。“你是说，有一个专门为SCP分配编号的部门？”

艾伦可以感觉到想法扩展的热流冲入脑中。她继续推进这个想法。

“不只是编号。看来他们——你们——可以给数据库中的SCP文档重新归类，支配它们的研究优先度，甚至改变D级人员和研究员的工作分配，将他们派至特定的物品或实体那里。你们肯定也能追踪访问记录，并进行交叉参照，就是因为这样你们才会知道我在看什么，我离查明真相还有多远。办公室里那些强大的处理器表明你们肯定在某些大型数据库上运行着算法。O5知道这事吗？”

“他们当然知道我们的事。就是O5-10创立了我们的部门。你现在在分析学部的办公室里。但你能不能走出这里就要看你怎么回答我的下一个问题了。我想，你应该能够预判到这个问题是什么吧。”

艾伦缓缓点头。真相已经近在咫尺——她需要的只是冷静地把它慢慢说出口。

“你早就知道我做了什么，又是如何做的，但你还是把我带过来问话，而且没带警卫，所以不论你有什么计划，你都不打算留下记录。你问了我一些关于基金会的哲学性问题——那一定有某种目的，但不是为了了解我为什么要违反安全协议。啊——你是想要更多地了解我本人。你想知道我对你们部门了解到了什么程度——我能调查到什么程度。”

艾伦的头脑在飞速转动，她的声音不自觉地兴奋起来。“所以这是个测试！你想知道我能不能调查出来，能不能理解究竟发生了什么。至于你说的规律，不仅仅是指我工作做过了头就会陷入麻烦。关键在于我陷入麻烦之后会发生什么。所以你说我‘能不能走出这里’并不是在威胁我。你是要问我是否愿意为你们效力。”

帕克斯博士的眼角浮现出笑纹。“很好，艾伦。那么，你对我们有什么问题要问吗？”

“萨姆怎么样了？”

“会没事的。记忆删除当然免不了，但除此之外没有受伤。还有别的问题吗？”

“我猜对了多少——关于你们的工作？”

“很接近了。我们确实在追踪你的调查——我们通过类似的方式招收过不少人。和你说的一样，我们可以管理数据库，但还不止是这样。基于我们的数据，我们可以确定收容突破发生的概率，有时甚至是具体的时间，这样我们就能采取行动，加以阻止。我们分析异常交互实验的风险——在我们的建议下进行的一部分实验给我们带来了新的收容方法和实战技术。基金会里知道我们的人不多，但我们与伦理委员会关系密切——我们推荐的D级分工方案使得最近两年的人员死亡率下降了四个百分点。”

帕克斯博士似乎早就等着要发表这番演讲。他的声音变得更温和，肩膀也不再紧绷。“我们拥有海量的信息，艾伦，但是我们需要的是能够解读它们的人——能够质疑自己眼前所见，找到意想不到的答案的人——也就是像你这样的人，如果你愿意加入我们的话。”

“谢谢你，帕克斯博士。我很乐意。不过还有一件事。”

“请讲。”

“不好意思，这也许没什么意义，但我就是因为它才会来到这里。异常到底是通过什么方式编号的？”

“你自己也说了，并没有系统。”

艾伦皱起眉头。“但那说不通。如果你们的数据真的有看上去的那么多，收容措施有合理排序管理起来才会更方便。”

“艾伦，这不是什么非要道理上说得通的事。实际上这是早期基金会的历史遗留问题。”

“对不起，但真的是这样吗？毫无疑问你们是可以修正它的。那么，我们假设这种不连贯的编号确实有合理的理由……”艾伦突然停了下来，她感到突然爆发的肾上腺素使她的头脑开始飞速运转。

“艾伦。恐怕这个信息是4级机密，”帕克斯博士的笑容已经消失了。“我们该谈谈你的新工作的待遇了吧？”

“因为你们在删除它们。对吗？你们在删除文档。我不知道删了多少，但根据MC&D物品编号的间隔来看——肯定得有几千份了。”艾伦难以置信地瞪着他。

“听听你说的是什么话。我们是要和RAISA合作的。删除收容协议文档的风险我们可承担不起。”

艾伦一拍桌子。“不对。不对，你说的没错——你们不会删除文档。你们是直接销毁了那些skip。”

“奥康纳特工！”

“这是最合理的解释。一开始你们按照收容时间顺序来给物品编号，但后来你们解密了一部分skip——大概几百个——在编号中留下了空隙，就把比较新近的收容物填了进去。但你们不仅仅是从记录里移除了收容协议，你们还销毁了那些物品本身。”

帕克斯博士长长地叹了一口气，他的肩膀又佝偻起来。“今天我不想谈这个话题。”

“但这违背了基金会的一切宗旨。”

“是吗？你自己也说过，世界上其他人对现实的认知是由基金会决定的。如果我们认定某些异常不应该存在，我们无需获得任何人的许可。”

“但为什么要销毁它们？”

“因为它们对我们没有用处。”帕克斯博士的声音显得很厌烦——就好像他已经解释过这件事太多太多次。“我们已经收容了数千个物品和实体，而且我们正在越来越快地发现新的异常。它们中有很多从本质上来说只是我们已有的东西的复制品，还有一些则是不够异常或者不够有趣。对研究没有用的东西只会浪费金钱和时间，而我们需要这些资源来应对那些可能毁灭掉这颗星球的噩梦。如果我们无法利用一个异常，那么我们能销毁就销毁它。”

“这样我们跟GOC还有什么区别？等一下，O5议会知道你们在做这种事吗？”

“很抱歉，奥康纳特工，你的问题我不能每一个都回答。我告诉你的已经比我该说的要多了。”

“你想怎么样？记忆删除我？”

“那已经不可能了。你看，我们不光只会销毁物品——有时我们也会销毁人。不合适的人——那些打乱组织安排，事事以自己为中心的人。这不仅仅是一场工作面试。我们需要了解你的技能对我们是否有用，但我们同时也想知道这些技能带来的麻烦是否比它们的价值更多。现在，我的上级需要投票决定是否还允许你留在这个站点了。”

“我不相信你。”

“艾伦，恐怕不管你信不信都——”

“不，我不相信你。”艾伦的声音变得愈发响亮而坚定。“你说的完全是一派胡言。基金会不可能安排一场失败就会死的升职面试。你在说谎，而且这不是一个高明的谎言。”

“奥康纳特工——”

“不！让我说完。你讲了这么多，我才刚刚明白过来。一个如此机密的部门不可能没有内部问责制，也就是说，像这样的一场面试不可能只由一个人来主持。你所说的‘上级’一定正在监视我们。不仅仅是监视我：而是我们两人。所以他们已经看见了你无法阻止我发现销毁skip的真相，而且在压力下无法说出令人信服的谎言。对一个要保持不为人知的部门来说，这可不是他们需要的技能。我简直有点怀疑，萨姆为我搞来的那些文档保密性能差到这程度，其中是不是有你的原因？”

帕克斯博士站了起来，双手撑在桌上。“我要叫警卫了。”

“叫吧。我就先和你的上级谈一会儿。”艾伦找了一会摄像机，然后放弃了寻找，向前倾身，对着整个房间说话。“我想你们已经没有别的圈套可以让我钻了。这是一场工作面试，但面试的工作不是别的——正是他的这份。那么，我将会改变一些他的策略，但是……是的，我接受这份工作。”

没有回答。

帕克斯博士走向门口，边走边朝艾伦摇头。“太过头了，奥康纳特工。你以为我自己会不知道——”

在他向门把手伸出手的时刻，隐藏扬声器发出的声音让所有的墙壁震颤起来。“奥康纳特工，欢迎来到分析学部。你的新安保权限很快就会送到。”

艾伦长长地松了一口气，瘫倒在椅子上。帕克斯博士楞了一秒钟，然后转过身来，像是要找到那个声音的来源似的。

声音再次说道：“谢谢你，帕克斯博士。到此为止了。”

门开了。

当他们最终找上布莱恩·帕克斯时，是一个身穿白大褂的研究员，带着C级记忆删除剂的注射器。

When they finally came for her, it wasn't a black bag over her head in the middle of the night. It wasn't an MTF snatching her off the street on the way home. It wasn't tranquilizers in her coffee, or a subliminal command through her workstation. It wasn't even a Site Security officer, one gloved hand guiding her to the holding cells, the other resting lightly on a holstered taser. When they finally came for Ellen O'Connor, it was a balding, hunched man knocking almost apologetically on the open door of her office.

"Agent O'Connor, my name is Doctor Brian Parkes. We'd like to talk to you about some, uh, irregularities in the use of your Foundation access codes."

It was so innocuous that her first thought was, who wears a brown tie? Her second was, wait - who is 'we'?

"Perhaps we can talk about this in my offices, Agent O'Connor?"

In the lift, Dr. Parkes swiped his access card and pressed the buttons for the two lowest floors simultaneously. The lift started a slow descent, mirroring Ellen's sinking feeling. She'd known that this was going to happen - one day, any day, soon. You can't look for the Foundation's secrets and expect them not to notice. She had kept going anyway. She'd needed to find out. To know.

The lift stopped, doors opening onto an unfamiliar level. The corridors seemed older, the decor slightly behind the times. But Ellen could hear the hum of processor cooling fans through the office doorways. Through one she glimpsed the server stacks - hundreds of slim layers, scores of towers. Whatever this place was, they had plenty of tech.

Dr. Parkes stopped, turning to usher her to a chair in a small office. Not an office, Ellen realised as the door clicked shut, an interrogation room.

"So, Agent O'Connor. Shall we begin by recounting your employment history? For the record, you understand."

"Uh, sure. Where do you want me to…"

"Your time in the FBI showed a high degree of skill in analysis, but you became fixated on patterns that only you perceived. Eventually you gave a briefing to your Assistant Director in which you insisted that certain terror cells must be communicating with ultra-modern technology, beyond even the NSA's ability to intercept. This did not go well, and your reputation was shattered. Fortunately a new Director approached you, from a department you hadn't heard of before."

Dr. Parkes looked down at the file in front of him, the manila folder a sickly yellow in the room's fluorescent lights.

"Again, your early days at the UIU were characterised by strong results. But once again, you pushed too far. You saw investigations going cold, explanations that sounded convincing until you looked at them in concert. Not just yours, but other agents' cases, historic files. You started outlining the evidence for another organisation interfering with UIU jurisdiction and removing evidence for its own purposes. You speculated that your superiors must know of that organisation, and be liaising with it. But before you could finish your report, you were dismissed from the FBI for reasons we both know are false. Now you work for the very organisation you were investigating."

Dr. Parkes held Ellen's gaze.

"Are you seeing a pattern here, Agent O'Connor? Your skills, such as they are, have a history of getting you into trouble in your place of work."

"I can explain," Ellen began.

"No you can't," said Dr. Parkes, cutting her off. "I will explain. You will answer my questions. Tell me, from your time here, what do you see as the Foundation's purpose?"

"Uh, its purpose is, uh, to obtain anomalous items and entities, to ensure that they remain secured, and to protect the wider public from their effects."

"Spoken like a true naif. Drop the training video act, Agent O'Connor - what purpose does the Foundation serve?"

Ellen wasn't sure how to react. Why such general questions? If they already knew what she had done, why not sanction her immediately? The interrogation felt unreal, like play-acting. But if she was done for already, there was no reason to hide her opinions.

"Its purpose," she said, "is to ensure that reality stays normal."

"'Stays normal'?" Dr. Parkes sounded incredulous. "Many anomalies have existed for far longer than the Foundation itself. Who decides what is real, what is normal?"

"The Foundation decides. Which I guess means the O5 Council does."

"And what gives them the right to do that?"

"Well, nothing. The Foundation wasn't given the right, we assumed it. No-one gives us permission, no-one controls us except us."

"Are you comfortable with this - having someone else, someone utterly unaccountable, define your reality?"

"Not entirely. But I can see how the Foundation works, the good it does. I support what the O5 are trying to achieve."

Dr. Parkes rubbed the bridge of his nose, pushing his glasses up, then looked back across the table. "And your idea of 'support' involved a breach of information security across hundreds of containment files, did it?"

Ellen could feel the sweat on her palms, her heart rate increasing. She tried to focus.

"The first thing you should know is -"

"No. We know you didn't act alone. Your contact in InfoSec has already been disciplined. We know how you did it. We are interested in why."

"Okay." Ellen took a slow breath. "You know that I am on the MC&D taskforce, right?"

"Your file suggests that you and the other analysts have had some success in predicting their activities."

"I was looking at some of their items we'd recovered, and something didn't fit. Eight sixty-five and Fifteen seventy-one are both MC&D objects, but we didn't obtain the gun until a few years ago, and we've had the wallet since the eighties. Why number them that way around?"

Even in this room, with this man, just talking about the problem was like the first hit of caffeine in the morning. "It was such a small thing, but no-one could explain it properly - they told me that SCP numbers were assigned by the system. But a system should make sense - it should operate to a set of rules. I needed to know what the rules were."

"And what did you learn?"

Ellen's face fell with a sudden thought. "Wait, is Sam okay? You said 'disciplined', but what -"

"Agent O'Connor, answer the question." Dr. Parkes was implacable.

"Okay. I learned that there isn't a system, not like people think. Sam got me the access to look behind the text, at the page sources, the editing history, all of it. There is another department within the Foundation - not on any of the lists I've seen. And I think you must work for them."

The man across the table from her blinked slowly, his face placid. "You're saying that there is a department that assigns SCP numbers?"

Ellen could feel the warm rush of an idea expanding. She pressed forward with the thought.

"Not just numbers. It looks like they - like you - can re-categorise SCP files within the database, influence their level of research priority, even alter the re-assignment of D-Class personnel and researchers to particular items or entities. You must be able to track access and cross reference it, which is how you knew what I was looking at, how close I was to figuring it out. The processing power in the offices here means you must be running algorithms over some pretty huge databases. Does the O5 even know about this?"

"Of course they know about us. It was O5-10 who established us. You are currently in the offices of the Department of Analytics. Whether you leave, however, depends on your answer to my next question. A question which I think you might be able to anticipate."

Ellen nodded slowly. Understanding was tantalisingly close - she just needed to talk it out slowly and calmly.

"You already know what I did, and how I did it, but you brought me in for questioning anyway. And not with security, so whatever your plans are, they're off the record. You ask me philosophical questions about the Foundation - that must have had a purpose, but it wasn't to understand why I breached security. Ah - you wanted to know more about me. And you wanted to know how much I'd learned about your division - what I'd been able to work out."

Ellen's mind was racing, and her voice started to betray her excitement. "So it was a test! You wanted to see if I could work it out, whether I knew what was going on. And the pattern you talked about, it's not just that I push too far in my job and get in trouble. It's what happens after I get into trouble. So when you say 'whether I leave', that's not a threat. You're going to ask me whether I want to work for you."

Traces of a smile were showing at the corners of Dr. Parkes' eyes. "Very good, Ellen. Now, do you have any questions for us?"

"Sam?"

"Will be fine. Amnestics, of course, but otherwise unharmed. Anything else?"

"How close was I to the truth - to what you do?"

"Fairly close. We were tracking your investigation - many of our recruits start in a similar way. And we can manage the database as you suggested, but it's more than that. Based on our data, we can determine the likelihood, sometimes even the timing, of potential containment breaches, and act to prevent them. We perform risk analysis on potential cross-testing of anomalies - some of the tests we've suggested have given us new containment methods and field tech. Not much of the Foundation knows about us, but we're closely engaged with the Ethics Committee - our recommendations on D-Class assignments have reduced casualties by four percent over the past two years."

It felt like Dr. Parkes had been waiting to give this speech. His voice was warmer, his shoulders less tense. "We have huge amounts of information, Ellen, but what we need are people to interpret it. People who will question what's in front of them, and find counter-intuitive answers. People like you, if you'll join us."

"Thank you, Dr. Parkes. I would be delighted. Although there is one more thing."

"Of course."

"Sorry, it's so pointless, but it's how I got here. What is the process for numbering anomalies?"

"You said yourself, there is no system."

Ellen's brows furrowed. "But that doesn't make any sense. If you have the amount of data you seem to, it would be easier to manage if the containment procedures were rationally ordered."

"Ellen, it's not something that has to make sense. It's actually a holdover from the early days of the Foundation."

"Sorry, but can that be right? Surely you would have overhauled it. So if we assume that there is a rational basis for numbering non-consecutively…" Ellen stopped cold, and she felt her brain start to spin with a sudden kick of adrenaline.

"Ellen, I'm afraid that information is classified Level 4," Dr. Parkes' smile was fading now. "Should we discuss your new terms of employment?"

"You're deleting them. Aren't you? You're deleting files. I don't know how many, but based on the gaps between the MC&D items - there must be thousands." Ellen was staring, disbelieving.

"Listen to what you're saying. We have to work with RAISA. We would never take the risk of deleting containment procedure files."

Ellen's hands slumped to the table. "No. No, you're right - you wouldn't delete the files. You're destroying the skips."

"Agent O'Connor!"

"It's the most rational explanation. You number the files in sequence as the items are brought into containment, but then you de-classify some skips - hundreds of skips - leaving gaps in the numbering which are filled with more recent acquisitions. But you aren't just removing the containment protocols from the records, you're destroying the items themselves."

Dr. Parkes sighed, a slow exhalation that left his shoulders hunched. "This is not a subject I wanted to discuss today."

"But this goes against everything the Foundation stands for."

"Does it? You said yourself that the Foundation manages the rest of the world's perceived reality. If we decide that some anomalies shouldn't exist, there isn't anyone to ask permission."

"But why destroy them?"

"Because they are of no use to us." Dr. Parkes sounded exasperated - like this was something he had explained too many times. "We have thousands of items and entities in containment, and we're finding them more and more quickly. Many are essentially duplicates of things we already have. Others aren't sufficiently anomalous to be interesting. Anything that isn't potentially useful for research is just taking up money and time. We need that resource for the nightmares out there that could wipe the planet clean. If we can't use an anomaly, we have to destroy it if we can."

"Then how are we different to the GOC? Wait, does the Council know about this part of your work?"

"I'm sorry, Agent O'Connor, but I can't answer all of your questions. I've already told you more than I should."

"Then what? Amnestics all round?"

"That won't be possible. You see, we don't just destroy items - we sometimes have to destroy people. The wrong type of people - those who will disturb the organisation, who make everything all about them. This isn't just a job interview. We needed to see whether your skills were useful to us, but we also wanted to see whether those skills would be more trouble than they are worth. And now my superiors will be taking a vote to see if you should be allowed to remain in the site."

"I don't believe you."

"Ellen, I'm afraid that it is of no consequence whether you -"

"No, I don't believe you." Ellen's voice was louder, more confident. "What you're saying is nonsense. The Foundation wouldn't set up promotion interviews where the second prize is death. That's a lie, and not a very good one."

"Agent O'Connor -"

"No! Let me finish. You've been talking so much that I've only just realised. A Department operating with this much secrecy needs internal accountability, which means there's no way an interview like this would be conducted by a single person. Your superiors, as you call them, are watching us. Not just me: both of us. So they've just seen that you weren't able to keep me from the truth about destroying skips, and that you don't lie very convincingly when you're under pressure. Not really the skills required for a Department that no-one is meant to know about. I wonder whether you're responsible for the lack of security on the files that Sam accessed for me?"

Dr. Parkes was standing with both hands on the table. "I'm calling security."

"Go ahead. I'll just talk to your superiors for a minute." Ellen looked for the cameras, then gave up and leaned forward to speak to the room at large. "I think you're all out of hoops for me to jump through. This was a job interview, but not just for any job - it was for his job. Well, I'm going to be changing some of his policies, but yes, I accept."

There was no response.

Dr. Parkes moved towards the door, shaking his head at Ellen. "Too far, Agent O'Connor. Don't you think I would have known if -"

His hand was half-way to the door handle when the walls reverberated with the voice from the hidden speakers. "Agent O'Connor, welcome to the Department of Analytics. Your new clearance will be sent to you shortly."

Ellen let out a long exhalation of relief, collapsing into her chair. Dr. Parkes froze for a second, and then spun, as if he could find where that voice had come from.

It spoke again. "Thank you, Dr. Parkes. That will be all."

The door opened.

When they finally came for Brian Parkes, it was a white-coated researcher with a syringe of Class-C amnestic.

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