Human Sister

this? You said one question leads to the next.”
    “Yes, you do. There’s no other way.” He looked at me sternly for a moment, then turned to Elio. “Did you have any hint that something like this might happen?”
    “No.”
    “Did you know your mother was going with Sara’s parents?”
    “No. She told me she was going home this morning.”
    “So you’ll be comfortable with answering the same questions as I discussed with Sara?”
    “I suppose—if, as Sara said, the questions don’t lead back to Michael.”
    “I’ll do my best. Stay put.”
    As soon as Grandpa left, Elio said, “I don’t think I’ll be able to do this. How can I protect Michael if they use that algetor thing?”
    His words shocked me out of my own thoughts about whether I was up to another interrogation by Casey. “Don’t worry,” I said. “Just concentrate on answering the questions carefully. Casey won’t use the algetor on us because Senator Franklin and Jane Copley will be involved. Grandpa says the intelligence agencies use it only when they can deny using it.”
    Grandpa returned a few minutes later. “They’ve agreed to ask questions only about what we know about the hijacking of the plane and about the disturbances on the moon. To keep them to their word, Copley will be there with you in person as the questions are asked. General Renner, Senator Franklin, and a few others who were parties to our agreement will be watching and participating remotely. Some agents are outside right now, waiting to take the four of us to the Federal Office Building in San Francisco for questioning. Are you ready?”
    “Not Grandma,” I said.
    “I objected, but they said your father is her son, too, and he might have confided in her.”
    “But no one will be here,” Elio said. “What if they search the place? What about Michael?”
    “I’ll have the security staff watch over things. I’ve already instructed Gatekeeper to allow entrance to everyone and everything.” He looked at me silently for a moment. “I did the best I could, Sara. I felt that the worst thing I could have done under the circumstances would have been to indicate we have something to hide here in the house.”

    The interrogation room was small; the ceiling, low; the table, gunmetal gray and bolted to the floor; the chairs, metal, unpadded, cold, and also bolted to the floor; the walls, white and bare, like at home, though at home the walls were familiar, comfortable, bare and white to protect Grandpa’s secrets, my secrets, Michael. Here, the stark barrenness appeared imposing, frightening, one of the props of a place constructed to flay one of one’s humanity, of one’s secrets.
    Casey, wearing the same dark gray suit, adjusted a helmet, undoubtedly a brain scanner, around my head and attached a thick glove to my right hand. Intellectually, I was confident that with Jane Copley sitting beside me, I wouldn’t be tortured. My heart, however, seemed to possess a visceral memory of its own and beat hard and fast, frantic to escape.
    Casey began with routine questions: What was my name? What day was it? How old was I? At three separate times, he told me to answer his question falsely.
    After a few more preliminary questions, he asked me to describe everything I knew about Mom and Dad’s plans regarding their trip to the medical conference. After I completed my statement, he returned to each detail I’d mentioned: Did I have any information about their taking weapons with them? No. Had they ever discussed living on the moon for an extended period of time? No. Had they ever discussed the possibility of living anywhere for an extended period of time other than on Earth? Yes. Where? Mars, asteroids, Jupiter’s moons, other planets in other solar systems, but I’d never had the impression they were actually planning on doing so themselves. The discussions had been speculative. Several times they’d expressed disappointment that we had given up on terraforming and colonizing Mars.
    Next, he asked, “Do you have any reason to believe that the androids will harm their hostages?”
    “No.”
    For a moment Casey seemed to stare through me, attentive only to a communication coming to him through his earphone. Then I remembered my broken finger.
    Casey’s eyebrows rose, and his eyes focused on me.
    “I’m going to ask you that last question one more time. Do you have any reason to believe that the androids might harm their human hostages?”
    “No.”
    He drew