Free Savant by Nik Abnett Page B

had cringed at his lack of tact, but anyone who worked in College eventually got used to that; it was a common character trait among the Masters, especially the scientists and mathematicians.
    Service knew Tobe’s profile, so they knew that he was incapable of lying. That being the case, surely it didn’t matter who interviewed Tobe, or how. If he was asked a direct question, providing that it wasn’t a combination question, he would offer a direct answer.
    Metoo stopped pacing, and turned to face Saintout.
    “Or what,” she said.

 

    Chapter Fourteen
     
     
    “I HAD THE first tutorial of the day, 08:30 with Master Tobe,” said Pitu 3.
    “Before that?” asked Bello.
    “When before?” asked Pitu 3, bewildered. “There wasn’t a before.”
    “Okay. That’s good,” said Bello.
    “It’s fine,” Bim said, reassuring Pitu 3.
    “So, I went to my tutorial for 08:30, and we arrived together. He might have said something, I don’t remember,” Pitu 3 continued, lifting his eyes to look at Bim, searching for approval before he went on.
    He was sitting forward on his chair, with his forearms resting on the table between him and Bim. The other three were all sitting back in their chairs. He kept his head low, sometimes holding it in his hands, sometimes dropping it down between his shoulders, and once, knocking one of the sensors off his skin, so that Mudd had to replace it for him. His hands moved a good deal; some of the time they were palm down on the table, stroking the surface, where the finger sensors made odd clicking noises, at others they were in his hair. He also touched the back of his head a good deal, certainly more than was usual. Every time his hands moved, the ribbon between him and Mudd tightened, or went slack, or rustled with an odd, harsh sound, and the sensors and wires clicked against the table-top.
    Part of the interview involved monitoring Pitu’s physical responses to the questions put to him, and to his answers. The Medic had taped sensors to Pitu’s chest and finger tips to monitor his heart-rate and breathing, and how much he was sweating, the plaited cord of wires running from the sensors to the small device that sat on the table next to Bello. Pitu 3 seemed very pleased with the equipment; at last he was being valued. At last, someone was taking notice of him... Everyone was taking notice of him.
    Service Central was also uploading footage of the interview in real time, so that the process could be completed as quickly as possible, and the College could be brought back down to Code Green, at least.
    “I’m pretty sure he did say something,” Pitu 3 said, “but you can check that on the footage, right?”
    “Depends if you were in the corridor or already in the office,” Bello answered. “It’d be a big help if you could remember, son.”
    Pitu 3 smiled slightly, and sat a little straighter in his chair, the sensor wires straining slightly.
    “Oh, right, okay,” he said. “Let me see... He did say something, I’m sure. Maybe it was something to do with maths, maybe it was to do with a text book. That was it. I think he mentioned a book.”
    Bello’s machine sensed that this information wasn’t accurate, but he continued with his questions; all the data would be decoded later.
    “Did he always greet you the same way when you met?”
    “Tobe? No, he didn’t talk much. He didn’t really speak to me. Oh, yeah, sometimes he said ‘tidings’ instead of ‘come in’. Yeah, he did that a lot,” said Pitu 3.
    “So, you’re in the office?” prompted Bello.
    “Yeah. He said to check out his footage, and gave me a time code for the morning. He said I should ask Metoo, so that’s what I did.
    “I went over to Tobe’s flat, and Metoo signed me in to Service. We had a bit of a chat, and then I got to work with the material. I was thinking, What are the odds of this happening? I mean, he gave me my own calculation to do, real world. I guess he needed me to do it, so that