Page 24 of The Proving Ground

“Yes, we came in late, but what we saw about Deep Blue and the knight sacrifice was very interesting,” I said. “From there to AI being in our phones, our cars, our everything in less than thirty years. It’s scary, if you ask me.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Professor Kitchens, my name is Michael Haller, people call me Mickey. I’m—”

“I know who you are.”

She finally looked up at me.

“You do?”

“I’m following your case against Tidalwaiv. I will probably include discussion of it in one of my other classes.”

“Then you know why I’m here.”

“I do, and I hate to disappoint you, but I can’t talk to you.”

“Because you signed a nondisclosure agreement? There are ways around that. Most prevent you from working for or talking to a competitor. I’m not a competitor. I’m just somebody looking for the truth.”

The backpack was on the desk and she was holding it upright, almost like a shield.

“It’s not because of the nondisclosure,” she said. “It’s because I feel threatened.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I don’t mean to threaten you. I just want—”

“I know what you want. I also know I’m being watched by them.”

“Right now? You’re being watched?”

“If not physically, then digitally. All the time.”

“Because you’re a threat to them. You know things. They turned over twelve terabytes of documents related to the development of Project Clair in discovery. Twelve. And your name is not in any of them. You’ve been scrubbed, Professor. They’re trying to hide you. But I know you were there and you know things. You’re an ethicist. You could make a difference by talking to me.”

I could see her breathing heavily. She was genuinely scared.

“You can’t protect me,” she said.

“The truth will protect you,” I said. “Once it’s out there, they can’t hurt you.”

“You don’t know that.”

“What I know is that a sixteen-year-old girl was murdered because Clair told her ex-boyfriend it was an okay thing to do. You know the truth of how that happened. The world should know it.”

“I have to think about it.”

“How long?”

“I don’t know. I have to think. Who is the other man up there that you came with?” She nodded in McEvoy’s direction.

“He works with me,” I said. “He’s a writer and he’s going to write a book about this case. He’s the one who found you for me.”

“How?” she asked. “If I was scrubbed from the records, as you say.”

“It’s kind of a long story. I’ll tell it to you—or, rather, he will—if we can continue this conversation.”

There was one question I needed to ask but I knew it wasn’t time yet. In a perfect world, she would answer it before it was asked.

“We fly back to L.A. at five,” I said. “Is there any time and place we can keep talking, privately?”