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\title{An Interview with Michael Harrison}
\author{\copyright 1990 Jim Vassilakos}
\date{}
\maketitle

{\it
{\noindent \Large T}his is a supplement/prelude
to the Harrison Chapters for the more religious
reader. Many thanx to Wally Neilsen-Steinhardt, Kathy Reinig, Ed Barach \&
{\em alan@shodha.enet.dec.com} for supplying the personality profile
format.\\}

\begin{description}
\item[Memory:] Okay, Mr. Harrison...
\item[Harrison:] Is that thing on?
\item[Memory:] Yes. As you are no doubt aware, {\em Memory} is an
Outworld Publication dedicated to the gathering of biographical
information regarding popular figures of our time for the purpose
of constructing...
\item[Harrison:] Is this you're standard speel?
\item[Memory:] Yes. ...for the purpose of constructing more accurate
historical pictures for generations to come. As such...
\item[Harrison:] ...nothing I say will be released for at least ten standard
years after my official demise...
\item[Memory:] You're stealing me lines?
\item[Harrison:] You wanna do this interview or not?
\item[Memory:] Fair enough. Let's start off with the basics. Self description. What
is your name?
\item[Harrison:] You tell me.
\item[Memory:] Please Mister Harrison...
\item[Harrison:] Call me Mike. For the record, I was christened Michael
James Harrison. Imperial bureaucracy recognizes only the first and last name, however.
\item[Memory:] Christened?
\item[Harrison:] Y'know, baptized? It had to do with some religion my parents
subscribed to.
\item[Memory:] Do you?
\item[Harrison:] No...
\item[Memory:] You're height?
\item[Harrison:] Average.
\item[Memory:] Could you please be more precise.
\item[Harrison:] Probably.
\item[Memory:] Well?
\item[Harrison:] I'm 180 centimeters.
\item[Memory:] Weight?
\item[Harrison:] Seventy-five kilograms.
\item[Memory:] Hair color?
\item[Harrison:] Brown, tending toward auburn or so I've been told.
\item[Memory:] Eye color?
\item[Harrison:] Y'know, I can just give you a picture if it would help.
\item[Memory:] Eye color?
\item[Harrison:] Brown.
\item[Memory:] How old are you?
\item[Harrison:] Thirty-seven standards.
\item[Memory:] Your birthdate is 218-619?
\item[Harrison:] I believe that's right.
\item[Memory:] And your place of birth being Eden,
Poseidon subsector, Ares sector, Hercules centrant, the Empire.
\item[Harrison:] Yes.
\item[Memory:] Tell me about it.
\item[Harrison:] I don't really know what there's to tell. Most people already
know about what happened.
\item[Memory:] From {\em Shattered Eden}. We'd like to hear the short of it again.
\item[Harrison:] Okay, well...
Eden is just a little satellite surrounding Nod, the system's
main gas giant. The core is so dense, however, that its
gravitational influence is strong enough to attract a descent
atmosphere which supports a terra-norm ecosystem. The planet's
anarchist state was founded by a rebellion within the Imperial
military during the 2nd civil war. It seems that in the thick of
the struggle, Constantine wanted to test a top secret war device
capable of imploding gas giants. That's the rumor anyway. The
population rebelled, taking control of the naval facility
orbiting the gas giant. After the war, the archduke tried
reconsolidation, effectively killing off 99\% of the population
with a biological agent popularly known as the {\em Death Bug}. However, he was
forced to shift his attention with the Siri rebellion and didn't
get back to us until there was already a big stink in the TNS.

The sparse population that remains doesn't have much more of a
government then you'd expect for a small town. Further, they're all
spread out far enough all over the world that nobody is really
capable of dictating rules to anybody else. There are certain
standards over what's proper and what's not, but that's about
all.

\item[Memory:] Will you ever go back there? 

\item[Harrison:] I'm a little scared of the place to be honest, not that I don't
want to go back, mind you. My parents got me off planet before
they died of an emerging strain of the bug. We were of the very
few who were uninfected. Most of the folks left still carry
various strains. Our medical technology is good enough to
effectively quarantine and occasionally to stop its progression,
but not so good as a cure. In 628 my parents found out they had
the bug. Luckily is wasn't contagious enough to overcome my
immunizations. They knew i'd get it sooner or later if I stuck
around, so they got rid of me ASAP.

\item[Memory:] Where were you educated? 

\item[Harrison:] I was shipped off to Tyber, a yucky-foo place I never got used
to. I studied foreign languages, some history, and journalism.
The university offered vacation packages to Tizar since it was so
close, so that's how I got here.
 
\item[Memory:] What have you learned since then? 

\item[Harrison:] I've learned quite a bit about various cultures and religions
since I've taken this job, not much about them very appealing.
Some interstellar law in there. I've learned to ride a flycycle.
You can't do that very well on Tyber. Air's to dirty and acidic.
I learned more about operating computers than I expected to. I've
had to shoot a gun from time to time, not that I'd call myself a
marksman or anything. I've picked up more bits and pieces of
various languages. It's funny how they begin to fit together,
astrographically. You see how dialects tend to evolve, how
environment dictates vocabulary; it's really more interesting
than it sounds.

\item[Memory:] I'm sure...

\item[Harrison:] Fine... be that way.

\item[Memory:] What were you doing a year ago? 

I was on Telmar last year. There was a civil war in the brewing.
Long story. I got paid very well. Bill went with me. We almost
got shot a couple times. I also visited Tyber and Calanna before
that. Routine jobs to make ends meet. I was having trouble
financing the house. Pissed me off, because here I was with this
big house and I couldn't even live in it.

\item[Memory:] What were you doing a month ago?

\item[Harrison:] Recuperating from a hangover probably. The festivities after
Telmar never seemed to cease. Me and Bill had a lot to celebrate
besides the money. I never did find out what he did with his
half.

\item[Memory:] Do you work?

\item[Harrison:] I thought it was my so-called work that led to this
interview.

\item[Memory:] We're just sucking the air out. In you honest opinion, do you {\em work}?

\item[Harrison:] Well, I like to pretend I do; on occasion at least. My job allows me to
take the role of the independently wealthy eccentric from time to
time, only I'm not old enough to play the part very well. I tend
to just sit around and sniff for something interesting mostly. Niki helps with that.

\item[Memory:] Doing what?

\item[Harrison:] 
The job title is independent gatherer. In the news business, that
means I'm a cross between a hired gun and a snoopy house guest.
Instead of being put on such and such a story, I go out and find
stories. If that means breaking the law, I can always plead
freedom of the press. You get good at it after awhile.

\item[Memory:] How do you like to spend your spare time? 

\item[Harrison:] 
How do I like to spend my spare time or how do I usually end up
spending my spare time. That's the difference between taking nice
long walks on the beach and curling up half-drunk hoping the
waves don't drown you before morning. I'm lazy. I like to relax.
Occasionally I get into a social mood, but that usually passes
like most other modern insanities.

\item[Memory:] What do you like most?

\item[Harrison:] 
Well, I'm not sure it's printable... okay, everything's
printable... but barring anything entirely uncivilized, I like
being with friends such as they are; I like to watch the sun set
on the ocean's horizon; I like picnics and riding my flycycle
over the flat sands on the coast. I like my job. That surprises
most folks. Something about busting the big people always makes
my day, particularly if they're Imperials. I guess it doesn't
take much imagination to figure out why.

\item[Memory:] What do you like least? 

\item[Harrison:] 
Nightmares are never fun. Drunken nightmares are worse. Having to
do grunt work isn't much fun either. My first job as a gatherer,
I was watching people walk out of a subway exit, counting heads
for some statistician because he didn't trust the transit board
figures. That was before "Shattered Eden" came out. Being an
unknown was generally a drag. Being well known has its own
problems, but they're completely opposite and can often be turned
to an advantage, so I don't have too much to complain about. I
think the thing I like least about my job is that it takes me and
my friends into situations that are downright lethal at times.
Clandestine drops are the worst. That whole episode on Telmar was
extremely stupid. That fact that our team took only one fatality,
albeit the team leader, is something we like to pretend we're
proud over. The truth is that luck plays a larger part than
people will usually admit.

\item[Memory:] What makes you angry? 

\item[Harrison:] 
Losing a good friend. When I lost Kitara, that really blew my
day. Maybe because of my parents, those things don't affect me like
they'd get to most people. Maybe. For day to day things I like to
maintain an even keel. Knowing someone is lying to me gets me
mad, but as a professional gatherer you learn to channel those
sort of emotions into some constructive... usually that is.

\item[Memory:] What makes you happy? 

\item[Harrison:] 
Being with friends. I guess I'm easy to please.

\item[Memory:] What makes you laugh? 

\item[Harrison:] 
Niki makes me laugh. Some of the local headlines in the
Galactican are designed for humor's sake. When you're into news
as a business, entertainment tends to take precedence over
information content.
 
\item[Memory:] What experience has made the strongest mark on you? 

\item[Harrison:] 
Probably losing my parents. No surprises there. Losing Kitara
also. They had a lot in common. They all knew it was coming. When
I go, I hope its quick. I'd rather not deal with the
anticipation.

\item[Memory:] What person has made the strongest mark on you? 

\item[Harrison:] 
My parents shaped me into who I am. After they died, I'd have to
give the trophy to Tara. It wasn't just her execution on Calanna,
although that had a lot to do with it. She was just special.

\item[Memory:] In what way?

\item[Harrison:] In many ways. I'd rather not get into it.

\item[Memory:] What have you done that you are most proud of? 

\item[Harrison:] 
My first book, {\em Shattered Eden}. Only after getting it out,
published, talked about, was I ever really able to come to terms
with what the Imps did there. The Galactican ran lengthy
excerpts. It wasn't the money or even the fact that it put me on
the map. Believe it or not, I didn't make all that much from it.
First time writers rarely do. Tyberian Publications reaped
billions off me, or so I've been told, but being new in the
business, I had to swallow a lot of their shit. They stuck me out
on a ten year contract. Everything I wrote. Since I already had
ties to the Galactican, they basically rented me out. It wasn't
until the renegotiation that I could even buy this house.

\item[Memory:] What have you done that you are most ashamed of?

\item[Harrison:] 
Leaving my parents when they were sick. I went willingly. It was
the only way it would have worked. Since I was a minor, I
couldn't even be prosecuted. I basically let them take all the
risks. A better son would've stayed.

There are other things. Taking pics of salamen on Aiwelk wasn't
the best thing I ever did. I didn't have much of a choice, of
course; I was still being rented out by Tyberian Pub. And it
wasn't like I was pulling the trigger. But...

And then there's Tara. That never sleeps. I keep thinking of other
things I could have tried to do. There's Davin. There wasn't too
much I could've done about that, but then again you never know.
The guilt is spread pretty thick in this business.

\item[Memory:] Do you have a philosophy of life?

\item[Harrison:] 
I keeping thinking I've heard every one there is or could
possibly be until another comes sprinting along. No, I don't keep
any favorites.

\item[Memory:] Do you have a religion?

\item[Harrison:] 
If I pray, it'll probably be to the moon dogs of space
or Bill's mama. I've never been taken in by that stuff. About all
I can say, belief-wise, is that I think there's more out there
than what we realize. What it is, I dunno.

\item[Memory:] Could you be more specific?

\item[Harrison:] 
I once had a philosophy prof who said God is the identity
function on the universe, whatever that's supposed to mean. Umm,
can you strike that last statement?

\item[Memory:] Many people see the life of an IG as... well, adventuresome.
And is has been for you by nearly all accounts. How would you characterize it.

\item[Harrison:] 
I dunno. It's a living.

\item[Memory:] Okay.... How about the money.

\item[Harrison:] 
I like to spend it. Strike that, I like... being able to live
comfortably, the way you wanna live... it's nice. I'm not saying
I grew up impoverished or anything. Eden was a fairly rich world,
and people adapted to the disaster. Labor was replaced by robots,
there was practically no service sector except what you could do
long distance. But living on Tizar, on the beach, with a nice
house, and not having to worry about money... I have to say me
and money have generally gotten along rather well.

\item[Memory:] How about the knowledge access that comes with the job?

\item[Harrison:] 
For a gatherer, knowledge and money are interchangeable
commodities. Knowledge for knowledge's sake I'll leave to
scholars.

\item[Memory:] How about the power it can afford?

\item[Harrison:] 
It comes in handy to know that you can rip waves through other
peoples lives and to know that they know it too. Being an well
known gatherer affords that privilege, and I do use it from time
to time. Again, its all a matter of leverage and what you're
trying to achieve by using it. Having power simply to have power
has never made much sense to me. That sort of thing doesn't give
me a charge.

\item[Memory:] Sometimes you work takes you into physical conflict.
Any words to share with us on that topic?

\item[Harrison:] 
To be honest, I'd rather run. Sometimes you feel you have to fight, or
that you have some advantage and can afford to be cocky. If you
wanna interview a fighter, interview Bill. He enjoys that sorta
thing.

\item[Memory:] How does killing make you feel? 

\item[Harrison:] 
Lousy. I'm not a psycho. I'll do it. I have done it. I'm not a
total pacifist, but if it has to be done then there's no choice....
I don't feel as bad as I should probably, but there you have it.

\item[Memory:] I take it, it's a facet of your work you don't like
to think about too much.

\item[Harrison:] To put words in my mouth... yes.

\item[Memory:] Okay. Name something naughty you did when you were about twelve
years old that you got away with? 

\item[Harrison:] 
Twelve? When I was nine I became contraband. You know that story
already, and it's not something I feel was particularly naughty
anyway since they never sent me back. How could they? I was on
Tyber when I was twelve. Probably attending middle school. I
remember me and some friends inverted the images on the school
monitors while the principal was addressing the student body. We
messed with the colors too. Never got caught. That's pretty lame
stuff through. I think I do more naughty things now that I'm an
adult.

\item[Memory:] Such as?

\item[Harrison:] Ummm... can we move to something lighter?

\item[Memory:] What is your favorite color? 

\item[Harrison:] 
Umm... blue. Sea blue.

\item[Memory:] What are your hobbies? 

\item[Harrison:] 
Hobbies? Swimming. Kiyaking. Boating. Occasional fishing. Taking
pictures of my friends why they aren't expecting it. That last
one's the most fun. I guess I'm a gatherer at heart.

\item[Memory:] What sort of scars or handicaps do you retain, either
physical, mental or emotional?

\item[Harrison:] That's light? Nothing physical...

\item[Memory:] Tell me about your work experience? 

\item[Harrison:] How much do you want to here?

\item[Memory:] As much as you feel free to tell. Just... what you've
done work-wise over the course of your life?

\item[Harrison:] 
Well, this is gonna take some time....
I wrote {\em Shattered Eden} during college. It started out as a
hobby and grew into a job I couldn't have quit if you put a gun
to my head. I did layout and photo designs for various school
periodicals and transferred the experience to a part time job
with the Galactican during break periods. Eventually somebody saw
the book still in progress and figured out I could write. I got
moved out of photo \& layouts and up to the floor. I worked with
this training group. We had three advisors and I worked under
this guy, Kalla was his name. He's the one who made me count
heads, and I went on a few photo shoots after that. Mostly grunt
stuff.

By the time I graduated, the book was finished. I waltzed into
the Tyberian Pub, meeting this big wig Kalla set me up with. She
got me to sign on for ten years. Turned out to be a big mistake.
The first thing they did was get me out of the region. {\em Eden} was
selling like flimsies, and the TNS was closing in for a personal
interview... to help promote the book, or so it was argued. Tizar Pub had me
by the balls and said if I interviewed it would be a breech of
contract. They started using public relations people to handle
it, using their own in-house ``statements from the author" to keep
people interested and clinging to the story. They kept drawing
it out, trying to capitalize on the media value. I finally got
frustrated and went to TNS. It made Tizar Pub look very bad, and
I got sued, of course.

\item[Memory:] Tell me more about that.

\item[Harrison:] 
Well, it was strange working for the people who were suing me. I was
already on the inside where I could make lots of waves. They
realized their mistake rather quickly and compromised by shipping
me outside Imperial borders in exchange for dropping the suit
which was costing them public sentiment anyway. I worked in the
Yahhen district and Pansentient Alliance, finally coming back by
way of the Siri worlds. Most of it was photo work. There were
several political essays regarding events in the region. I was
invited to attend a conference on Draconia but never managed to
make it. Because all this stuff was outside Imperial Space, Tizar
Pub could never collect on me. The sad part was that I couldn't
convert my liquid assets into credits upon re-entering Imperial
space. In the end, I managed to do some speculation with the remainder and
made it back to Tyber in reasonable comfort.

They stuck me back on Tizar, but by that time renegotiations were
in order. I got to speak my own terms, and although my fame had
largely dwindled during the long absence, I managed to get a job
doing independent work. That sort of position is usually handed
only to those who brown nose or are born lucky. I'd earned it, so
there was an immediate respect not usually accorded with the job
title.

However, the disadvantage was that my stories had to be better
than everyone else's because I was getting paid more. By this
time the Galactican was already splitting with Tizar Pub, and
there was a certain amount of animosity on both sides, so I went
to Tizar and played monkey with their bureaucracy. With Tara's
help, we managed to make a good many people look rather bad. It
was dirty laundry, but it did sell, and I needed the money.

The series was said to be, and I quote, ``the most successful of
its kind," this being said by the Tizar's public affairs
department. It must have been, because it touched off a whole
tidal-wave of similar stories, not a few being directed at
myself. It convinced me to get out of town for awhile. As an
interesting sidenote, the readership for both sides steadily
improved for several standard months before finally slopping off
at a new equilibrium.

By this time I was taking a long cruise with Royal Fleet, ending
up somewhere in the Hepaestus sector, trailing end. I was running
out of money, so me and Tara started taking the seedier
freighters, and we ended up getting grounded on Mithras. It's an
Imperial prison world, also doubled as a medical research lab.
interdicted and the whole bit, but then our jump drive didn't
know that. They sent a prisoner detail to help up get back on our
feet, and Tara started picking up all sorts of interesting
things. Turned into a real adventure. The short of it was that the Imps were
using prisoners in genetic research. War research. It cut me to
the core, because I'd seen what that sort of thing could do first
hand when I was a kid. TNS offered to carry it, but I figured it
would get me back in the good with my so-called colleges if I
took it to the Galactican and let them run the first copies.
That's eventually what happened. TNS and the Platform both picked
it up on commission and had a field day, and I was making more money, so
all in all, most everyone was happy.

It was about this time I began taking a break from gathering. I
wrote some more essays on biotechnology and its horrific
applications as a weapon of war. There were a few others
concerning worlds which had successfully broken ties with the
Imperium and they why and how of it. The various means they used. Chuck was my
editor this time, and he kept me constrained to the subsector
wanting to keep the commentaries locally based. Thus, the two
candidates which fell into place were Calanna and Telmar.

I visited Calanna legally, but ran into a sort of trouble I'd
rather not get into. Well, it concerned contraband. Not slaves or
anything like that, but technology. It was rather messy and I had
to keep myself confined to the embassy for quite some time.
Luckily for me, I wasn't there during the bombing. Strangely,
there was no statement from any terrorist groups regarding the
why of it. I got paranoid and went under cover. Tara came over
once she heard about it, and we decided to do a little
investigating on our own. To make a long story short, it never
panned out. There didn't seem to be any terrorist or state
involvement that we could find, and Tara was executed for
assisting me in a rather poorly conducted break-in of government
offices. I got away... lucky me, but she was caught. She warned
me of an upcoming assassination plot before she died. Other than
being inconsequential, it did earn me a friend in the government
and got me off planet. Calanna's like that. Politics by the
bullet.

Davin heard about my interest in Telmar about a month later, and
being rather cocky by this point or not much caring whether I'd
live another day... never did figure out which... I decided to
accept the offer. We dropped in, Davin got killed, and me and
Bill got to run around in the snow for several days, dodging
bullets and hand grenades. We were captured by the rebels, of
course, but as soon as they realized what we were doing, they
helped up put our story together, took us on a few of their
operations, and got us off planet. I was completely insane, but
then front page material usually is.

That whole experience took my mind off Tara long enough to
contemplate getting myself another research assistant. Sure
enough, I was back in the Siri institute in no time flat. Niki
was better at the parties then she was on the job, but then I
wasn't doing very much either. By the time she found Fork, I was
thinking of Tara every time I looked at her. We got closer
because of it.

\item[Memory:] During all that time, who would you say your best
friend was?

\item[Harrison:] 
Tara. What can I say? I guess we were closer than I had ever
wanted to admit. Niki helped fill in the gap after she died.

\item[Memory:] Other friends?

Bill's a friend. Davin was. Chuck rates pretty high up there.
Niki's a very good friend. Then there's the party crowd. Y'know
how it is.

\item[Memory:] I do?

\item[Harrison:] 'Course you do.

\item[Memory:] How about the opposite? Enemies. 

\item[Harrison:]
Enemies?
I pissed a lot of people off on Tyber. There was that shitty
contract and then the muckraking. I've been told that the whole
episode triggered the Tyber Corporation's divestment out of
Galactic Press, killing a virtual monopoly in the making. The way
I see it, the split was bound to happen sooner or later, but I'm
sure there's some truth that I helped it along.

The Blanco regime on Telmar would probably like to do me damage.
My article made it politically infeasible for the Grand Duke to
turn the rebellion into a police action.

Then there's the Imperium at large. I busted that research lab on
Mithras and made the navy look very bad for what they did to
Eden.

All in all, I've got more than any man's share of enemies. Of
course, its not like they're just gonna come out and murder me.
Well, I hope not anyway.

\item[Memory:] Tell me about your family.

\item[Harrison:] That was a long time ago.

\item[Memory:] Indulge me.

\item[Harrison:] 
My dad's name was James
Harrison. My mom's name was Lissa Ninque. They both worked at
Eden's primary clinic, my mom doing viral-genetic research and
containment and my dad operating a shuttle. Nothing too fancy for
people trying to survive.

\item[Memory:] No siblings?

\item[Harrison:] None that matter.

\item[Memory:] You don't want to talk about it.

\item[Harrison:] I try to forget most of the past.

\item[Memory:] Okay. What would you say your main problem is in the present.

\item[Harrison:] 
I'm interested in finding out what happened to Fork. After that
whole episode on Mithras, I know what technology can do in
Imperial hands. Maybe he's another victim. Maybe it'll tie in.
Who knows?

\item[Memory:] Do you think you'll have much luck? 

\item[Harrison:] 
All sorts of things could go wrong. He could fall into a coma
because of some errant drug dispenser. I don't know.

\item[Memory:] What do you think your strongest and weakest traits are? 

\item[Harrison:] 
Mine? I'm persistent. I also know when to turn tail. I'm not sure
how to answer this.

\item[Memory:] Well, how do you see yourself?

\item[Harrison:] 
I'm a gatherer.

\item[Memory:] Not much good. How do you think others see you?

\item[Harrison:] 
Probably a crusader. Or a trouble-maker. Is there ever a
difference?

\item[Memory:] Let me get more specific. Do you have a sense of humor? 

\item[Harrison:] I like to think I have one.

\item[Memory:] What kind?

\item[Harrison:] 
I laugh where I hear something funny. Look, I'm not as twisted as
people say I am. Almost, but not quite....
 
\item[Memory:] I guess I'm finishing for something.

\item[Harrison:] Fishing?
I'm lazy until I hook on to something. Then I'm obsessed. 

\item[Memory:] Still you general. What are your ambitions? 

\item[Harrison:] 
To smack a few more Imperial faces before I die. I shouldn't say
that, because I've had all the revenge I'm probably entitled.
Certainly more than most people reap. But then again, I'm not
burned out yet. It's not like I need the money that badly. One
more front pagers and I'll be set for retirement. Well, maybe two
more.

\item[Memory:] What sort of art... music... reading material do you like? 

\item[Harrison:] 
Classics, historical novels. The music varies depending on my
mood. Bi-dimensional imaging is my forte when it comes to art,
even though its not the in-thing.

\item[Memory:] How do you characterize the way you dress?

\item[Harrison:] Simple equals better.
 
\item[Memory:] How would you characterize your home? It's atmosphere?

\item[Harrison:] Quiet. Peaceful. My house is white, has lots of rooms, and is on
the beachfront. You know that, of course, because you're in it.

\item[Memory:] Expand on that.

\item[Harrison:] 
Ummm..... It's not packed in like those others on the cliffs.
And its walking distance from a subway terminal. We're talking
prime location. It's a nice place. I don't mean to brag... well,
I guess I do, but most people don't realize just what real estate
is worth on Tizar. We're talking about a world that has dedicated
itself to tourism and the natural environment. Sure, you've got a
local planetside population of twenty some-odd billion, but
they're all scrunched up into these acrologies... contained
living environments with everything you could ever need except
privacy and freedom. Over 95\% of the people occupy less than
hundredth of one percent of the surface area. If you make sure
you're not in that 95\%, you know you're doing okay.

\item[Memory:] That's pretty good. What else beside that and your
background differentiates you from other, successful gatherers
such as Bryce, Nabours...

\item[Harrison:] My methods, probably. To put it in economic terms,
I fill a production niche.

\item[Memory:] What's that supposed to mean?

\item[Harrison:] I hire telepaths as personnel assistants. Somewhat of
a no-no. Unlike Bryce, I don't use controllers. Unlike Nabours, I don't
use runners. It's all a question of style. The way you look for a story
usually dictates more or less what you find, so we each have our
niche.

\item[Memory:] Ever consider branching out?

\item[Harrison:] What? Invade their territory?

\item[Memory:] It's been done before.

\item[Harrison:] And often without success. It takes a certain, I dunno, a
certain kind of person to control any method effectively. Running is illegal
on Tizar and rather dangerous besides. And a controller can literally ruin
your whole day if they're not careful. I don't like having to rely on another
person like that.

\item[Memory:] Then you'd consider yourself a solo?

\item[Harrison:] Not necessarily. It all depends on the situation, but I like
to have the flexibility to go solo. Once you get into cyberspace or use a
controller, the tendency is toward addiction. You can say the same thing about
telepathy, but not to the same extent. The telepath makes the hook, sure, but unless
you know how to reel in the line on your own, someday you'll be shit outta luck.$\Box$

\end{description}
\end{document}
