Lower Class

by horizon

The Interrogation (3)

Bergmann and White sat quietly as Brittle trailed off. The room settled into uneasy silence.

White was the first to break it. "And?"

"And?" The word seemed to jerk Brittle back into the moment, and she took a shaky breath and shifted around in her chair. "And he called Catalyst. And Catalyst told him everything."

Bergmann paused in his writing. "Everything?"

Brittle glanced over at him. "Enough. Too much. Catastrophically so." The rigid chitin of her muzzle didn't shift, but her mandibles shifted with a clicking that at least two of them would recognize as grief. "I arranged a meeting as Juanita Ibanez. She introduced herself as a changeling and told him that 'Harvey' in the classroom had been her imitating her client. Ibanez told him Harvey was in an extremely precarious place to accept his proposition, but as someone who sensed love directly, she couldn't bear to see their mutual interest extinguished. They talked for half an hour. She did everything she could to help Tank-Top make a safe and discreet approach."

Bergmann digested that for a moment. Then he asked, "What was the young man's name?"

"I don't know," Brittle immediately said.

Bergmann frowned. "I know you think you're protecting him. But given Harvey's violent tendencies—"

The changeling's head snapped up. "I don't know!" Brittle said, raw anguish lifting her voice. "I didn't want to know. I specifically avoided asking. Some part of me knew I had stepped way too far over the line. I couldn't not intervene, but I tried to pretend that the less I knew, the less it was my responsibility."

"You're a smart woman, Brittle," Bergmann said, both smelling and sounding of sympathy. "You've got to have something."

"A phone number," Brittle immediately said. "The one he called me with. But it's useless—his number was a burner, and please don't ask me how I know that. I've already given you his description. I didn't take any pictures. He wasn't registered in the class he met Harvey in." Her head drooped. "That's the one thing I feel most scared and awful about. I'm sorry. I'm honestly sorry."

Bergmann nodded, pen flashing across his notebook page.

"Is there… anything else you've heard?" Brittle asked hesitantly. "Recent missing person reports? Disturbances, fights, shootings?"

Bergmann stared at Brittle for a moment, then his scent of sympathy strengthened and he sighed. "Nothing comes to mind. We'll do our best to find him and confirm his safety."

"Thank you," she said in a small voice.

Dean White looked back and forth between Brittle and Bergmann. "This doesn't answer the big question. Why did Mister Chutney attack you?"

Brittle took a breath and shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know that, either. I mean, I do, but only what you already know. He ran up to me in the quad today, screamed that I had ruined his life and that I was dead, and then went to strangle me. Some other students pulled him off, but he got in a hard punch to my face before they separated us."

"And we were there for the rest," Bergmann said.

"Maybe Tank-Top wasn't sufficiently discreet, and Harvey's frat brothers learned. Maybe they threatened to make it public, or kick him out, and he was struggling enough in school that that sort of social crisis pushed him over the edge. Maybe someone with a grudge leaked it to his rich parents who cut him off." Brittle shook her head. "I don't know. That's all just speculation."

"Could well be." The detective took a moment to flip back through his notes. "Hmm. Actually…"

He wasn't close enough for Brittle to catch the subtleties of his new scent, but suspicion was displacing his sympathy. She mentally braced herself.

"There is one thing I'm curious about, Miss Brittle. You were on campus today as Juanita Ibanez?"

Brittle stared at him for a moment. "Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because you only attend classes when you're sitting in for one of your clients."

"Right." Brittle fought a sudden stiffness in her body and swallowed. "But, you know how it is. Being a changeling. I don't make a habit of walking around in borrowed bodies. The less time I'm taking someone else's place, the fewer questions I have to field." She felt her muzzle flush.

At that, Bergmann's scent grew smug. He leaned in. "You're a smart woman, Brittle. The fact that we're only finding out about your scheme now is proof of that. Juanita Ibanez isn't a borrowed body—she's someone you made up to handle your business logistics. And I think you're not stupid enough to walk around as her unless you were actively at work."

Brittle tensed herself, flicking her eyes around the room. "Okay, right, but I don't see how that's relevant."

"Seriously?" Dean White blurted out, straightening up in her seat. "You were—"

"Marian," Bergmann said, "let me—"

"Alan," White said, and her eyes hardened despite her quiet tone. She turned to Brittle without waiting for his reply. "Miss Brittle, you were meeting another one of your clients. Tell me who."

"My breaking confidence about my clients has already caused quite enough trouble." Brittle shook her head. "I'm sorry, ma'am."

"Are you?" The question was soft, but the room seemed suddenly more oppressive around it. "You're certainly sorry for one of the lives you ruined. Do you have any remorse for all the other students whose educations you've destroyed?"

"That's an unfair characterization, Dean White."

"It is an accurate one." White's voice turned icy; her scent, angry. "Every student at Green Hills signs our academic honesty policy, representing that everything submitted under their name is the product solely of their own work. You are directly enabling nothing less than fraud, Brittle, fraud on a massive scale. How many students paid you? Dozens? Hundreds?"

Brittle sat up straighter, some fire returning to her voice. "I did nothing but trade money for freedom, ma'am. The freedom to study at their own pace when a strictly regimented schedule created struggles. I never crossed the line of taking midterms or finals for my clients—"

"Pop quizzes," White immediately said.

Brittle looked down at the floor. "I answered them with only the knowledge I had. Meaning I basically went in blind. I assure you I didn't help those clients' grades."

"I'm hearing excuses. You just actively admitted you helped students cheat."

"Grades are a mechanism of assessing knowledge," Brittle said. "If you're passing students who can't prove their knowledge on midterms and finals, your problem isn't with me."

Bergmann cut in, with Brittle smelling concern—presumably he hoped to steer the conversation. "Miss Brittle, do you realize you're been committing some serious violations?"

"With respect, Detective, the seriousness here is entirely regarding a private institution's internal rules, which I will discuss with the institution. Respecting the university's mission, and respecting the university's policies, are different matters, Dean White." Brittle quickly shifted the conversation back to her. "Believe it or not, we share a common principle in the importance of education. If I didn't respect that, I'd take students' tests for them. I'd earn considerably more money in the process."

"We're not here about the rules you didn't break, Miss Brittle. We're here about the ones you did."

"And I'm trying to tell you that those are rules not serving your mission." Brittle softened her voice. "Do you remember me mentioning my own goals? I'm here to learn, and I'm here to help my clients learn. I pay attention in every class. I take detailed notes, which I give them. I answer questions when they don't understand the professor's intentions. They pay me to understand what they're here to learn, and I deliver."

"Then you're a thief," White snapped, her face reddening. "You're stealing education from us, and money from the students. Everyone loses."

"It's exactly the other way around!" Brittle said, frustration hardening her own voice. "You have an inefficient market. I'm giving your consumers options you won't offer. Your profit remains the same, they gain benefits, and I benefit from correcting the inequalities. It's textbook arbitrage." She hesitated just long enough to add weight to her addendum: "I learned that in one of your business classes."

White's face drifted from red to purple.

"Marian," Bergmann said. "If I may."

The dean glanced over at the detective, giving him a curt nod. Brittle smelled her anger simmering.

"Miss Brittle," Bergmann said, pulling out a handkerchief and his sunglasses to clean the lenses as he talked. "I'm not certain what you're trying to accomplish here. You had to know the university would take a dim view of your activities. You're about to get the book thrown at you." He paused, and gave her a meaningful stare. "This isn't Equestria, and even in Equestria, forgiveness requires contrition. But I know Marian, and I know she's not heartless. If you're willing to come clean, I'll personally see to it that we can help you turn a new leaf and continue your education on ethical terms. Let's start by giving her the names of all your clients."

Brittle sat silently for a moment, evaluating the room's scents. There was the barest whiff of sympathy, but it was hard to pick out behind the frustration. She didn't smell any hope. This was merely a showdown, then—one in which she had virtually no power.

But neither did the school, if the dean was trying to bully her behind closed doors. Green Hills had everything to lose by formally charging her; it would turn her actions from quiet shame into public scandal. The assault already made them look bad enough.

Brittle Horn took a deep breath.

"Many of them are people who have done nothing morally wrong," she said. "They just didn't want to be penalized for being sick, or needing to cover a work shift, or dealing with a personal crisis when a cold and unflexible system tells them that ten percent of their grade is simply for placing their flanks in a chair. I'm not perfect, ma'am, and I understand you have standards to maintain. But I hope we can both take this as an opportunity for reflection."

"You first, Miss Brittle," Dean White said, glowering. "You keep claiming the moral high ground—but if you would like an opportunity for reflection, you only have to look at the changeling who has done it right. Dark Wing faces all the same struggles you do. She keeps her head down, and pays for classes, and earns fantastic grades. She has faced up to her past, and her fear of accepting help, and overcome them. What I've heard from you, on the other hand, is a crippling amount of pride blinding you to your own flaws. You say you want to change the world ethically, and yet instead of asking for financial aid or working with your family, you repeat all of their mistakes." White stood up and leaned over her desk, fingers clenching the dark wood. "I'm disappointed. Severely disappointed. We're giving you every possible chance, but unlike Miss Wing, you seem determined to prove all the changeling stereotypes correct."

Brittle Horn winced, eyes snapping shut.

"With all respect, Dean White," she said in a small voice, "I'm afraid we have nothing further to discuss." She opened her eyes and turned to the side. "Detective Bergmann, sir. Setting aside the assault I was a victim of, I do not understand any matters we have discussed to be criminal law violations. Am I being detained?"

"Miss Brittle," Bergmann quickly said, "please reconsider. My own ability to help you rests upon your cooperation with your client list. If you can't trust me, my hands are tied. And I would hate to see someone with such big dreams slam the door closed on her future, when all she has to do is the right thing."

Brittle hung her head for a moment, and then let out a long and soft breath. "I understand, sir. Dean, ma'am, if any of my clients are cheaters, I am certain that they will continue to violate university policy in ways you will sooner or later discover, and I will not interfere in your investigation. But I cannot violate their trust and ruin their lives for my own personal benefit. Detective Bergmann, if you please, am I being detained?"

Bergmann and White exchanged a glance. Frustration curled White's face. Bergmann checked the clock, then scribbled one final note in his notebook and snapped it crisply shut. "Not at this time," he said.

"Then I would like to apologize once more for the situation, assure you I'll pass along any more information I find out about Tank-Top, and bid you both a good day."

Dean White massaged her temple with one hand. "Miss Brittle, you have my phone number if you change your mind," she said. "Otherwise, we will consider any future presence on university property to be criminal trespass, and I assure you I will not hesitate to press charges. Detective, kindly escort Miss Brittle out to the edge of the school."

Comments

[A.P.O.N.I.]

Bloody hell, Dean! We've already covered that she's not actually a student there. What part of that do you think means that she's beholden to the institution's academic policies?!?

[horizon]

12078978
That's the beauty of dragging the non-student behind closed doors with your friend the off-duty cop ominously taking notes! They don't have to actually be doing anything illegal in order for you to make vague implications of jail time and scare them into handing over their client list!

Which works right up until the person you're threatening calls your bluff and walks out of the room...

[Scyphi]

"My breaking confidence about my clients has already caused quite enough trouble." Brittle shook her head. "I'm sorry, ma'am."

She's absolutely right, it's already been proven violently that betraying the trust of her clients like that is not without serious consequence or potential risk to herself. She's also understandably hypersensitive to the matter. I think this is something the dean would be wise to choose her battles on--it's not strictly relevant to the matter at hand, so let it slide. If it's really that important to you, then get Brittle to agree to not continue business with the campus students and the matter ends here regardless, no further betrayals required.

"You are directly enabling nothing less than fraud, Brittle, fraud on a massive scale."

Is she, though? Because as she herself explained it, all she was doing was just take notes on the lectures she sits in on and give them as tools for the students to use so to stay caught up--the rest was still totally up to them to do, especially as Brittle made it clear she does NOT do this for exams, which as far as the college is concerned, the more important part anyway, at least by US standards. She is hardly enabling students to cheat, because there's still the implied challenge for the students to step up and take what Brittle gives them and apply it accordingly, same as if they had attended the lectures themselves.

Besides, the dean is jumping to the assumption that all of the clients are doing this to slack off, but that's not necessarily true. I can totally see some perfectly invested students finding themselves in a legitimate situation where they can't make a lecture and use this so to avoid falling behind and having to catch up and/or avoiding getting another unsavory absence put on their record, which can also detrimentally hurt their grades, that they can't afford to have for whatever reason. Bruttle's really more offering a safety net to those sort of students, and I can totally see how that could be a lifesaver for them.

Is it the best way to get an education? Probably not, and that mixed with the deceptions and Brittle using it to get her own education for free (because heaven forbid schools should be robbed of their right to charge people through the nose for the chance at an honest education [/sarcasm]) stills leaves it in a morally grey area, as already openly admitted. But it's hardly to morally and academically bankrupt thing the dean is trying to spin it as.

"Pop quizzes," White immediately said.

Oh, you're reaching for straws with that and you know it, dean.

"Grades are a mechanism of assessing knowledge," Brittle said. "If you're passing students who can't prove their knowledge on midterms and finals, your problem isn't with me."

And she's gotcha there, too!

"Then you're a thief," White snapped, her face reddening. "You're stealing education from us, and money from the students. Everyone loses."

See, that's what this is actually about. The dean is chuffed they can't charge her money for it, and again, that's more a personal problem, and one I think most schools are going to find they don't have as high a moral ground as they think.

And it's not actually robbing the students or really the school as much as she claims. If the students are still passing their exams and getting their degrees, then they accomplished precisely what they were there to do, proving it was money well spent. Meanwhile, the school still keeps it's success rate, preserving it's reputation, it's funding, and it's future.

Seems to me all parties involved still win out in the end. The issue is just that it's not in the way the school planned it, but who cares so long as they still get what they wanted in the end too?

"If you're willing to come clean, I'll personally see to it that we can help you turn a new leaf and continue your education on ethical terms. Let's start by giving her the names of all your clients."

Personally, I'd still refuse and say no, consequences be darned, because to me, that'd still be the moral high ground. This isn't about her other clients anyway, they're just exploiting the situation so to get the other students as a consolation prize that I think is undeserved.

But I'm also not the one writing this, so...

"You keep claiming the moral high ground—but if you would like an opportunity for reflection, you only have to look at the changeling who has done it right. Dark Wing faces all the same struggles you do. She keeps her head down, and pays for classes, and earns fantastic grades. She has faced up to her past, and her fear of accepting help, and overcome them."

And it only cost her her soul!

...yeah, you're not exactly selling your case here, dean.

" We're giving you every possible chance, but unlike Miss Wing, you seem determined to prove all the changeling stereotypes correct."

Well then, sounds like you didn't want her there anyway, so all the more reason for her to refuse.

"Otherwise, we will consider any future presence on university property to be criminal trespass, and I assure you I will not hesitate to press charges."

Now that's admittedly fair. It was clear the charade could never continue on this campus anyway.

[Str8aura]

Fantastic work with Dark Wing, making me hate someone who A) hasn't done anything and B) hasn't even shown up.