Briggs.
Briggs picked up his cup of coffee and took a sip. The bitterness made his lip purse. He reached for the sugar, added a spoonful and slowly stirred the dark, steaming liquid
Clairbourne shifted his weight from one foot to the other and cleared his throat.
"Sit down, Clairbourne, your fidgeting is irritating me."
"Thank you, sir,"
Briggs took one last glance at the document in front of him. It didn't make good reading. Coal and oil reserves were at their lowest in eight years and the wet summer had played havoc with cereal production. Tough decisions were going to have to be made again and these ones were going to hurt. He closed the file and opened another. A picture of Hannah was clipped to the underside of the cover; his daughter. The initial shock of discovering he was her biological father had subsided. Now he found himself in the unusual position of beginning to have feelings for the girl. Maybe not fatherly love, but he felt the distinctive warm, self-satisfied glow of pride; that his very own genetic material had produced this bright, spirited and most importantly perfect young woman.
For over thirty years, Briggs had strived for perfection; working tirelessly to remove the flaws and iron out the kinks in his society. He hadn't created this segregated place they lived in, mirrored the world over. That had been done generations earlier, during the days when the Western world had prized equity over all else, often fighting wars to remove division. Slowly the East followed suit; as their countries prospered, their populations demanded more, and more was produced. For the smallest period of time, consensus was reached around the world. All agreed that no belly should ever be empty, no one should die of a treatable illness, every child had a right to an education and no one should suffer fuel poverty. But equity for all came at a cost. Many knew that deep down it was unsustainable, that there would be trouble ahead. No one expected it to happen so fast.
A two year cycle of extreme weather phenomena, a world- wide flu pandemic and a sudden and unexpected drop in oil production became the tipping point. Equity was okay when there was enough to share around, but suddenly there wasn't enough food, medicine and fuel; soon there wasn't enough of anything. The countries of the world turned into squabbling toddlers, shouting "mine" when other toddlers wanted to play with their toys. Many, once highly populated countries ceased to exist, as the stronger nations wrung the weaker ones dry of their natural resources. Eventually, division and segregation was welcomed back with open arms. As his predecessors before him, it was now Briggs responsibility to ensure that his country would never come so close to annihilation again. Resources would be managed and those most deserving, those most likely to breed success would be rewarded. His society was 'survival of the fittest' in action. His perfect Hannah was going to be more than just the poster girl for his society going forward.
"So, how did she do?" He finally turned his attention to Clairbourne.
"In the full health and biometric screening, Hannah's score is exceptional, beyond all our recognised parameters."
"Excellent, continue." Briggs smiled; there was a lot was riding on this information.
"As for IQ screening, I've never seen anyone perform my tests with such a high degree of functionality. She is scored at the highest centile for logic and reasoning and Hannah has excelled again in every area...
Briggs clapped his hands together. "I knew it!"
The Professor paled and quietly added, "Except one, sir."
Briggs looked at the Professor with a murderous stare. "What?"
The Professor's breathing was now fast and shallow; his hands shook as he looked at his notes again.
"I rechecked my data and found an anomaly." Clairbourne felt Briggs' eyes boring into him. The slight stutter he had spent years hiding, had him stumbling over his explanation. "The, the...the results of the behaviourmetric and psychometric testing when examined against scans of her lateral orbitofrontal cortex, lead me to believe she may have tried to manipulate the results.
Briggs stood up, towering over Clairbourne
"Spit it out man!"
"The data is conflicting. My scans show that whilst she should be naturally vulnerable to non-conformity, her test results suggest Hannah is predisposed to harmony. When I looked for openness and potential neuroticism, her responses were again conflicted, leading me to think that she is currently emotionally unstable. I believe she is hiding something and I believe she attempted to fake these tests, that she tried to make herself appear compliant and conformist, as if she knew what we were looking for and tried to hide it.
"You told me no one could fake these tests!"
"They can't, normally. We only find this type of anomaly when reviewing the Flawed, or specifically, those in the thirty to seventy-ninth centiles, where most have a predisposition to conflict. I don't usually find it below thirty or over eighty."
"Why is it not in those below thirty?" Briggs asked concerned, but unsure why.
Well, sir, to put it in very basic terms, those who have an SPR below thirty are generally past the point of caring. By the time they reach adulthood, they have generally accepted their low status and are so busy trying to survive each day that the notion of upheaval and non-conformity has long since passed. It also helps with the near exclusivity of inter breeding within this group."
The mention of the most Flawed in his society made him wince. Not because he felt any measure of guilt towards their plight; instead he was irritated that this, the most fault-ridden sub-group of the Flawed even still existed. These were the biggest drain on his resources. They consumed and yet gave nothing back.
"What about those over eighty, surely you see this there?"
"No, we don't, sir," Clairbourne tentatively began, "those over eighty are what we term 'Status Satisfied". In other words, they are content with their SPR rankings, settled, happy. As a norm, they don't tend to have this desire for non-conformity and upheaval."
Briggs rubbed at his eyes and massaged his temples. One day he was convinced that Clairbourne would irritate him to the point of murder. "When you say upheaval and non-conformity, what do you actually mean Clairbourne?"
"Rebellion, sir."
Briggs sat up sharply.
"In other words, developing or possessing thoughts of rebellion. This is a common trait amongst those in the thirtieth and eightieth centile, particularly in the seventieth centile. These groups are the least satisfied, the ones most likely to cause you problems, Sir"
"Basically, what you are saying is that Hannah has cheated on her SPR test and that she is capable of leading a rebellion against me?" Briggs voice dripped with sarcasm.
"No sir, that is not what I am saying, I am just concerned about her result. Under every other measure she is classified as perfect with an SPR of 100, however, this anomaly has reduced her score to 95.2. I have re-run the data and this is the figure I get every time."
"My daughter has an SPR of 100 and yet your hunch reduces the figure to 95?" The pitch of Briggs' voice was higher; strained.
"Not a hunch, sir. This is data that has been collated and analysed by our best system. The findings are...."
"You will not reduce her score. She was brought up as a Flawed; of course there will be some anomalies. I do not want to hear you mention these concerns again. Get rid of any data that relates to your silly little anomaly. Now leave."
"Yes, sir." Clairbourne jumped up out of his seat and fled to the door.
Briggs picked up the phone and dialled his press officer. The phone was answered within two rings.
"Ashworth, the result was what I had hoped. She scored one hundred in her SPR review. Send out the press release... Yes, I am happy with the wording. Send it out immediately."
Briggs pressed the button and dialled another number. "Melissa, please send her in." He replaced the handset into its' cradle, reached for his glass of malt, preferring it's peaty-warmth to the cup of coffee growing cold on his desk. He took a satisfying sip.
A timid knock came on the door.
"Come in."
The door opened and Hannah entered.
"Hello again Hannah, please take a seat."
"Thank you." Hannah walked towards the desk.
"Hannah, I have some very good news for you. Professor Clairbourne has just informed me of the result of your SPR review."
Hannah shrunk down a little behind the desk.
"Not only were you the first in our society to score 100 at birth, you are also now the only adult to ever achieve an SPR score of 100. Hannah, you are the most perfect citizen we've ever had. I have a great future planned out for you, my dear girl."
Hannah looked up and gave him an uneasy smile. Briggs felt a wave of affection for her; she reminded him so much of Amy, his sister. So timid and yet that smile, those searching eyes ... Amy had would have been a beautiful, strong young woman if she hadn't ..... Briggs shivered at the thought and shook his head slightly in an attempt to dislodge the memory. It would take time and a lot of effort on both their parts, but he was convinced now, more than ever, that when the time came for him to retire, Hannah would be the one to take over from him. She would continue to lead his society in the pursuit of perfection, seeing as she was the living embodiment of it.
"General Briggs could I...?"
Briggs laughed as his daughter's formality. Such a polite, respectful young woman! "It's Michael, Hannah. Please call me Michael."
Hannah nodded and took a deep breath. "Michael... Could I please ask why you have my mother and father in custody? They've done nothing wrong. They would never put my life in any danger. My father only visited me that day because he missed me. The only thing they are guilty of is being the unfortunate ones to adopt me in the first place and then lose me seventeen years later."
This was the longest he had ever heard Hannah speak before. Her tone was surprisingly confrontational and her use of the word father, in respect to that Flawed individual, currently being questioned in an office not far from his, made him a little angry. How does she know they are in custody he wondered?
"Hannah, do not be concerned with any of this. Your adopted parents, like many others, are currently answering a few questions for us. We have reason to believe your life is in danger and this risk will be even higher when your new SPR score is announced. The intelligence we have suggests the attempt on your life was a co-ordinated action from you borough. Hannah, people you probably know have been plotting against you. I am determined to keep you safe. Please do not worry; your parents will be free to return home shortly."
"Thank you for your concern, Michael," she said his name slowly, "but I want my parents released right away. Your treatment of them is worrying me a great deal. I am grateful for your treatment of me since discovering the mistake made at my birth, but I cannot continue to live here, like this, knowing my parents are locked away".
Her polite tone now had an edge to it. Briggs stared hard at Hannah, wondering where this sudden confidence had come from. Clairbourne's analysis came back to him. Briggs immediately tried to shrug off the thought.
"Now, Hannah, please calm down. I can assure you, that your parents are not in any discomfort and our treatment of them so far has nothing more than courteous. Our questioning is nearly over and..."
"End it now and release them," Hannah demanded. She stared hard, back at Briggs.
"No Hannah, I cannot do that yet..."
"Yes, you can!" Hannah interrupted again. "You can put a stop to it right now."
"Hannah, please sit back down," he said to the young woman who now towered over him. This was not at all how he had anticipated the conversation to go.
"No!" She shouted at him. "Take me to my parents; now!"
"Hannah, there is no need for this kind of behaviour; this should be a day for celebrating. Now please sit back down and I will try to explain what is going on."
"I don't want to talk about this anymore. Take me to my parents or..."
"Or what Hannah?" Briggs finished. "What is it you think you can do? I am in charge here and don't you forget that." His patience had finally been tested; the girl was becoming quite hysterical.
"General Briggs, release my parents immediately or so help me, I will leave here and never come back."
Briggs looked at the girl. She no longer resembled Amy. She was far too strong, passionate and angry; she actually reminded him of himself. That thought he found far more unsettling, since he knew now that she was unlikely to give in. Her adopted parents were currently heavily sedated, having been interrogated for the last thirty-six hours. It would not serve him well to have her seeing them like that, but likewise, the thought she might run off, worried him more. He was just a couple of days away from his address to the nation, a day that would be difficult enough without her there. He had just one option.
"Okay, Hannah. I will take you to your parents and have them released immediately."
"Thank you," Hannah replied, her form relaxing a little.
"Follow me."
Hannah followed Briggs out of the office, down the corridor and over to the lift. The numbered lights above their heads ascended and the doors opened and Scott walked out.
"Ah, Scott, I'm glad you have arrived. Come with us please, I'm taking Hannah to see her parents."
Scott looked at Hannah and then at Briggs and re-entered the lift behind them. The lift descended three floors.
"This way, Hannah." Briggs led the way, passing a succession of doors. Hannah followed in silence. Scott stayed at the rear. Upon reaching room two-fifty, Briggs opened the door and ushered Hannah inside. Scott remained outside.
"Take a seat Hannah, whilst I fetch your parents."
Hannah nodded and walked over to the small table in the centre of the room, pulled out a chair and sat down facing the door.
Briggs gave her a warm smile and left the room closing the door behind him.
"Scott, lock that door and don't allow her access to anyone."
"Sorry, what sir?"
"She is to remain under guard until I say otherwise."
"Why, sir?"
"Since when do I have to explain myself to you or anyone today? Just do it!"
"Yes, sir."
"Good." Briggs walked back down the corridor.
"Let me out," came a sudden scream from inside room, two-fifty and as Hannah began to pound on the inside of the door, Briggs headed up back to his office to drink his whisky.