The Doubt Factory

by Paolo Bacigalupi

  George was still talking. “You should talk to your therapist about it. Anything that you felt or did while they had you locked up.” He gripped her shoulder, hard, looking her in the eye. “It wasn’t your fault, Alix. Remember that.”

  Alix struggled to get back into her role. “It—it was all insane. They were saying they were going to do something to expose Dad.”

  “Their stunt with the warehouse.” George nodded knowingly.

  “Nooo…” Alix didn’t even have to pretend to be drunk anymore. She was flying. The champagne and rosé had made it through her blood and straight into her head. “It was something else. It sounded big. About asthma medicine or something. Some drug killing kids or something.” She tossed back the rest of the rosé and stared around drunkenly. “I’ve got to tell Dad. I don’t know why I didn’t think of it before. It was when 2.0 had me in the cage. 2.0 said he was going to make some company pay.” She scanned the crowds again. “I can’t believe I forgot. Dad needs to know they’re still planning something!”

  She lurched off, pretending to seek her father. George caught her before she toppled off her Jimmy Choos. “It’s all right, Alix. I’ll speak with him,” he said soothingly. “I’ll let him know. Now probably isn’t the time.”

  “Do you think it’s true?” she asked, making her eyes go wide and drunk and Bambi innocent. “About the asthma drug? Do you think it could be killing people?”

  George laughed and shook his head kindly. “No, Alix. It couldn’t. People will say almost anything if it will win them a lawsuit. They’ll try to spread a lie that a certain medicine kills just to make a buck off the jury award. It doesn’t matter how many studies show something is safe, because if you can force a jury into a hysterical conclusion, instead of taking a measured approach and letting sound science dictate what’s true, a trial lawyer can get a huge payday from a class action lawsuit.” He snorted. “People will say or do all kinds of horrible things for money, unfortunately.”

  Alix forced herself to smile. “That’s what I told them.”

  As quickly as she could, she separated from him and went to the rail. The feeling of being surrounded by unclean things was almost overwhelming. Talking to George, she felt as if he was using a part of the Doubt Factory playbook on her. Around the time he’d said “sound science” she’d started suspecting that he knew exactly what he was doing.

  How much was a breakthrough asthma drug worth?

  Alix leaned against the rail, sweating and hating the feeling of the alcohol that she’d drunk for George’s benefit. Knocking back those glasses to make herself appear harmless to him had seemed like a good idea at the time. But now she felt blearily drunk and wanted it to stop, and now she’d just have to wait it out.

  Except she still had more to do. She still had to see if the seed she’d planted…

  George was cutting through the crowds toward her father and Mr. Geier.

  Alix took a deep breath and pushed off from the rail. Stay sober. Which was a total laugh because she was feeling more and more hammered by the minute.

  Suck it up, Alix. You’re not getting another shot at this.

  She stumbled after the trio of men, keeping her eye on them. They ducked through a door into the boat’s interior cabins. Alix pressed through the crowd, hurrying to catch up. It couldn’t be a coincidence. She’d poked them, and they’d reacted.

  Alix slipped through the door. She found herself in the yacht’s media center, the walls lined with flatscreen TVs, eight feet across. She slipped off her heels and stole across the parquet floors. She padded down a hallway, pausing at each door to listen.

  At last, she found them in what Alix decided was a library. At least, the room had a ton of books on the wall, from what she could glimpse through the decorative porthole in the door. She wondered if Geier had read any of them at all. Maybe his wife read. Or maybe the books were just for guests.

  The men’s voices filtered dimly through the door. Alix leaned against the oak, trying to hear, then, holding her breath, she eased the sliding panel slightly wider, blessing the Dutch for their silent precision. Not a click, not a slide, just voices wafting louder out into the corridor.

  “Where else could they hit you?” George was asking Geier. “They like getting on the news. Are you planning any press events?”

  Geier’s voice sounded puzzled as he went through possibilities. “We’ve got our quarterly call with investors. The FDA came back with a ruling that Azicort doesn’t require a second look. Would it be that?”

  “No, 2.0 likes public events,” her father said. “They’ll go after something big and public. Something they can prank. Something that will cause embarrassment.”

  “This party is about as public as Kimball-Geier is going to be for a while.”

  “You don’t think they’re on the yacht?” George asked.

  “They’re kids, not miracle workers,” Dad said.

  “Did you hear what Williams and Crowe said about that virus Alix brought back? That would have been a serious problem if it had gotten into our servers.”

  “It didn’t,” Dad said sharply. There was a pause, and then he said, “So where else are we vulnerable? Public events. Think about public places that will attract news attention.”

  “We’ve got depositions scheduled for the Romano class action down in Louisiana. We’ve got a presser.…”

  “No. They’re not like that. What if they went after Sammons?”

  “The man’s solid. He won’t say anything. He knows he’s got a job waiting for him as soon as he steps down from the FDA.”

  “What about our science witnesses for the appeal? Would they go after them?” George asked. “2.0 spends an awful lot of time worrying about science testimony. You saw what they had up on the walls with that last stunt.”

  “I just don’t see it. We’ve got Renner. I mean, sure, he’s a hack, but he’s happy to say whatever we want. And I think with Hsu, we’ve got someone a jury will like. His credentials look good, given all his papers that we’ve published.”

  “Would they go after our respiratory journal?”

  “They can’t do anything more to us than what opposing counsel will already try. It won’t affect the trial. We got most of the credentialing issues excluded by the judge. It won’t be a problem until they try another appeal, and that will be years.…”

  Delay = $$$

  Alix didn’t want to listen anymore. She padded away, as quietly as her drunken state would allow, and made her way back into the fresh sea air. She leaned against the rail, trying to force herself to breathe.

  Just breathe. Don’t think about it.

  She wasn’t sure how long she stood at the rail, staring out at the city lights reflecting on the waters, but it must have been for a long time because the next thing she was aware of was Dad joining her.

  “Alix?”

  Not him. Anyone but him. Alix couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes. She made herself smile, but it felt fake, and yet it was all she could muster. At least you’re drunk.

  “Hi, Dad.”

  “George told me you were drinking?”

  “Yeah.” She looked out at the city lights again. Now that he was leaning on the rail, too, she didn’t have to look straight at him. She could just act like the view was the most amazing thing she’d ever seen.

  “I don’t mind if you have a glass,” Dad said. “You’re very nearly an adult. But getting drunk, Alix?”

  “Yeah.” She made herself laugh. “That was stupid, I know.”

  “I’m worried about you.”

  I’m starting to think I might hate you.

  She couldn’t look at him. She was terrified that he’d be able to see what she was thinking. “I know,” she said finally. She kept her eyes on the skyline. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I mean, I’ve been thinking a lot. Everything that happened before, it really got to me for a while. But I think it’s actually going to be okay now.”

  “It doesn’t look like thin
gs are okay.”

  Alix shrugged. “I think it’s like AA.”

  “Do you think you’re an alcoholic?” Dad sounded so worried that Alix almost laughed.

  “No!” She paused. “I didn’t mean it like that. I mean that first you have to admit you’ve got a problem. After that, it’s a lot easier to decide what you need to do.” She shrugged again. “I just couldn’t admit how much the whole kidnapping thing got to me.” She made herself smile at him, feeling like a bitch for lying and doing it anyway. “You were right. I was burying it.”

  Dad wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Alix’s skin crawled as he gave her a comforting hug, but she forced herself not to draw away.

  “It would be hard for anyone,” Dad said. “I’m sorry you had to go through it.”

  “It’s okay. I’m fine. I mean, I will be. I’ll be fine.” She made herself smile, and suddenly it was real for her. She could lie to him because she wasn’t lying at all. Suddenly she could smile radiantly. “I have a feeling it’s going to get better from now on.”

  “Oh?”

  “I realized that I was having a hard time because they were trying to fuck with my mind. I mean, sorry. I mean…”

  Dad was too cool to worry about the language. He just nodded.

  Alix plunged on. “Anyway, that’s what it was. They were trying to make me believe in their crazy world instead of me believing in my own.…” She trailed off. “But I’m not an idiot. I can trust myself. Just because I get fooled once by someone, it doesn’t mean I’m always going to be fooled by them.”

  “We only learn from our mistakes.”

  “Yeah.” Alix nodded. “In a weird way, if it hadn’t been for 2.0, I would never have figured out how important it is to have honest people around you.”

  “I’m glad, Alix.”

  “Yeah, well.” She shrugged. “Being surrounded by liars will do that to you.”

  32

  SURROUNDED BY LIARS, ALIX FOUND herself becoming one. She forced herself to smile, made herself be the good girl that Mom and Dad wanted her to be, and at night she did more and more research. After Jonah’s intruding on her and her scattered notes, she became more careful about her research.

  She created new filing systems and password-protected her laptop, she bought a little key safe at the mall and stuck it under her bed to keep her papers in, and she laid a few of her hairs on top just to make sure that no one messed with it without her knowing.

  She regarded the two strands of hair that she’d carefully laid across the locking case. “Nice, Alix. You’re a real superspy,” she muttered to herself. It felt silly, but it still felt better to her than doing nothing.

  Eventually, though, the research dead-ended. There was all the information that was out there in the public view, and then there was whatever was tucked away inside the Doubt Factory. It was possible to speculate endlessly about what Dad and Uncle George were up to, but without being able to see their client files, that’s all it was: speculation.

  No wonder 2.0 had wanted her to help them. They’d run into the same brick wall that she had.

  She sighed and shoved her research case back under her bed. “I am so sick of liars.”

  So go find some people who aren’t.

  Unbidden, a memory of Moses and his crew popped into her head. All of them doing whatever they wanted, skating or programming or feeding rats or talking politics. Looking back on it, it felt amazingly free to her. Just thinking about it banished some of the claustrophobic constriction that she’d been feeling for the last few weeks.

  So go find them, a voice in her mind suggested again.

  Yeah, right. Like you could. The FBI couldn’t find them. Neither could Williams & Crowe. What makes you think you’re so special?

  You were there.

  Alix paused, considering. She’d been there. She’d been right there. She’d seen that whole factory. She just hadn’t seen enough of the outside. But she’d been there. She’d been at the rave factory, with it’s giant hamster wheel and many dance cages that had become Williams & Crowe cages, but then there had been the other factory, call it the bat cave, the place where 2.0 laired and lived. She’d lived in their bat cave.

  Alix grabbed her keys. Jonah saw her heading out the door.

  “Where you headed?”

  Alix scowled at him. “Nowhere.”

  “Great! I’ll come, too.”

  “Are you still spying on me?” she asked him pointedly.

  “Spying?” Jonah looked hurt, but Alix didn’t really buy it.

  “Screw it,” she said, giving up. “Come on.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Memory lane.”

  The rave factory looked pretty much the way she’d seen it the last time, except that someone had cleaned up all the dead rats and taken down 2.0’s banners.

  “So is this some kind of getting-over-trauma assignment or something?” Jonah asked.

  Alix was sort of regretting bringing Jonah with her, given how little he could take anything seriously. But she’d decided he was more likely to protect her privacy if he was included than if she shut him out, so now he was wandering around the empty building like a tourist at a freak exhibit.

  “Check out the smoke stains!” Jonah called, pointing at the ceiling of the factory, smeared with vibrant soot residue of burning saltpeter and sugar and whatever chemicals 2.0 had used to create the colors.

  “Yep,” Alix sighed. “Those are smoke stains.”

  “They pretty much snowed you, didn’t they?”

  “Pretty much.” Alix went outside to survey the empty warehouse. She’d wanted to believe that the place would tell her something, give her a clue about where she’d been taken next, but the truth was they’d drugged the hell out of her, and then she’d woken up… wherever. In the bat cave.

  Lisa had exhaustively debriefed Alix after the kidnapping, dragging out every single detail Alix could recall. What kind of sinks had been in the factory? Old porcelain. Two faucets, with silver rubbing off, showing what might be brass underneath. Four little spokes coming off the water faucet’s handles, old-style. Restoration Hardware, like that. What kind of lockers? Orange. With little vents at the top and bottom. How many lockers? Hundreds. At least a couple of hundred. A big changing room. What kind of windows? How many panes? How high were they from the floor? How high were you from the ground outside? How big was the building? How long did it take you to walk across it?

  Again and again and again.

  Alix had described it perfectly, and yet no one could find it, and as much as she wanted this factory to lead to that factory, it felt like a dead end.

  “Are you seriously trying to find 2.0?” Jonah asked. “Is it because of Dad?”

  “He’s not all sweetness and light, you know.”

  “So what? Who is?” Jonah asked. His voice sounded so knowing and cynical that it brought Alix up short.

  She wanted to have some answer to that, but it sort of mirrored her own sentiments. The more she’d researched the shenanigans of the companies that made their living by manufacturing doubt, the more depressed and hopeless she’d felt.

  However cynical you think you are, you’re never cynical enough. That was Moses’s perspective.

  Except he hadn’t been cynical. None of the 2.0 crew had been. They’d been cynical about other people. But when it came to themselves, they were practically starry-eyed idealists. They’d actually thought they could change the world.

  Alix thought of Cynthia. She’d apparently walked away from a pretty good future to run with 2.0. That was some crazy idealism right there. It was almost comic-book idealism. Fighting the good fight against an overwhelming evil.

  She thought of Cynthia’s clothes in those industrial lockers in the bat cave. And all those toothbrushes, lined up at the sinks. She could practically play the theme music in her head, imagining everyone getting up in the morning, brushing their teeth, and heading off to battle.

  She laughed.
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  “What’s so funny?” Jonah asked.

  “Idealists.” Alix took a last look around the empty warehouse. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “You’re done?”

  “Yeah. No one ever lived here. It was silly to come.”

  They hadn’t lived here. They hadn’t brushed their teeth here or kept their clothes here. They hadn’t slept here or gotten ready for school here, or woken to the smell of…

  Alix stopped short. “Fresh bread.”

  Jonah looked at her like she was nuts. Alix was starting to get used to that expression.

  Fresh bread. Bread manufacture. Bread baking.

  Cynthia said she had been sick of smelling bread because her parents lived near a bakery. She’d made the comment in the lunchroom. The smell was like being smothered in yeast, she’d said. And in the morning, Cynthia had smelled bread when the wind was wrong. She hated bread, and she always wrinkled her nose at the smell.

  Bread factories, bread production

  As soon as Alix got home, she started doing map searches for bakeries on her computer, but all she came up with were custom cake shops and coffeehouses, which would have been really helpful if she’d wanted a nice chocolate Grenache tart and a sip of espresso.

  Bread distribution, bread warehouse

  “Is there such a thing as a bread warehouse?” Alix wondered aloud. It didn’t seem to matter. She still wasn’t finding what she wanted.

  She gave up on map searches and started doing news searches instead. Looking for stories about bread factories…

  “Well, well, well…”

  There was an old news story about a Hostess factory going out of business and selling its building to another company, Maple Confections. One of Maple’s big products was Harvest Health Bread. The story was all about how a bunch of baking jobs were going to still stay in the area.…

  Alix searched Maple Confections. She got a hit in northern New Jersey.