Another Chapter in Callie's progress through university. An interesting research offer is put before her but causes internal conflicts.

Heir to a title 29.

During the Michelmas term Callie started as she mean't to go on by dutifully completing all her assignments well before their 'hand-in' dates. Consequently her punctuality and grades started to attract the attentions of her tutors and the departmental head. Few students handed in their work as often as a week or even a month before the deadline.

Callie thought little of this until after her attendance at one of the rare lectures the professor gave to the first-years. After she left the lecture theatre in her usual anonymous insularity, Callie was accosted in the corridor just as she was about to enter the junior refectory for lunch.

“Miss Callie Denton I presume?” The proffessor offered as he extended his hand.

Callie nodded then paused before cautiously offering hers. Based upon stories about 'sex-for-grades' scandals, Callie had reservations about familiarity with senior academics. The professor smiled somewhat patronisingly.

“I don't bite young lady.”

Like most attractive young women, Callie still kept up her metaphorical guard but allowed her hand to meet with his outstretched palm. He grasped it gently and shook it only briefly thus obviating his desire not to cause offence by lingering too long with his grip. He also noticed how the girl visibly relaxed once the handshake was completed.

“Are you nervous young lady; there's no need to be here just outside the refectory?”

She allowed a brief fleeting smile to cross her countenance before replying.

“Just cautious sir, first year students don't usually get singled out by their proffessors. What's this about?” She pressed as caution returned.

“Don't look so worried young lady, it's just your grades.”

“Oh.” Callie replied. “What about them?”

“You believe you have to ask!” The professor appeared nonplussed.

“Well yes sir. To tell the truth, once the project is handed in, I don't much check the grades. I just assume if my 'back-checks' determine my answers are correct
and fit the original question with sufficient accuracy then that's sufficient.

It was the professor's turn to raise his eyebrows in mild surprise.

“What, are you telling me you haven't looked at them?”

She hesitated.

“Well; not really sir. My Tutor hasn't called me in to discuss anything so I presumed everything was okay; you know, steady as she goes and all that.”

“Do you ever discuss your work with your classmates?”

Callie paused. Being somewhat obsessive about maths she had often been accused of being a bit geekish by her contemporaries at school, consequently she kept her academic work much to herself. Fortunately, Cambridge had offered her many other opportunities to indulge her varied extra-curricular activities so her insular responces to her course-work had – as she thought of it – gone un-noticed. Students grades were not posted on the board so other students would not have learned of her remarkable achievements.

Indeed she had simply assumed her grades had satisfied her mentors and that was that. As she had already said,- 'steady as she goes,'

“Are your seriously telling my you don't keep a check of your grades?” The proffessor frowned.

He wasn't sure if the remakable young lady before him was arrogant, naïve or duplitious. Callie became uncertain.

“Well I scan them briefly when I get my work back and if the grades are okay then I simply file them away.”

The professor repeated her answer slowly'

“You scan them to see if the grades are okay, you say.

“Well, yes, is there something wrong?”

“You do realise you've made 'A's' on every paper this term.”

Callie nodded before replying.

“Is that unusual? I thought all the students would be getting those sorts of grades, this being Cambridge. They're not remarkable sir are they. I mean this is Cambridge so I thought all the students would be getting 'A's'.”

The professor snorted before giving a brief chuckle.

“Really Ms Denton, that's a bit naïve, you must realise we have to maintain very high standards at Cambridge. That being so, both I and all the other tutors are very hard markers and we demand high standards. Very few of my students get 'A's' and almost nobody keeps getting repeated 'A's'. As you say, this is Cambridge.”

“So where is this leading sir?”

“Well;” he paused, “young lady, I'm sure you know about the team of 'problem solvers' we have at Cambridge. You know the ones who compile the many algorithms and such like for for shakers and movers within the computer industry and other scientific research.”

“I've heard of them sir but I thought they'd be working for commercial interests and such like. Algorithms seem to be composed and tested mostly by scientific or market researchers and suchlike don't they?”

“Well, there are other fields, behavioural research and such like.”

Callie's brows knitted uncertainly. She thought she might have a faint inkling of what the professor was ascribing to but she was not prepared to somehow indict herself. She played dumb.

“Where's this leading sir?”

“I'd prefer to discuss this in a less public location.”

Callie was now intrigued and suspicious. If whatever the professor was alluding to had something to do with miltary intelligence or something, then why had the professor approached her in a very public space. She decided to be quite bold and somewhat confrontational but she spoke softly.

“Then why did you broach it in such a public space as the refectory doorway?”

The professor hesitated briefly then replied disarmingly.

“Frankly Miss Denton, I had not considered that aspect – but you're correct and therefore right to ask. Can I meet you this afternoon?”

“We-ell. It's Wednesday and I was going cycling then shopping with some friends but if you insist, I suppose I can't refuse. I'm not commiting myself to anything though.”

“That's good enough for me, shall we say three o'clock in my office.”

Callie shrugged her shoulders and nodded.

Thus having launched his attempt to co-opt Callie onto the project he was involved in, the professor smiled and left for the senior common room. Callie continued into the refectory and sat thoughtfully eating her food.

'Wonder what this about?' She asked herself.

She was still deep in thought when Mickey plonked himself beside her and she started with surprise.

“Oh!” She squeaked as her soup spilled off her spoon.

Mickey grinned. “Helo-oo, Earth to Callie.”

“You starled me.” She frowned as she took her napkin to wipe up the spilt soup.

“Sorry; but I was standing over you for a few seconds and you didn't seem to have noticed me.”

“You only had to say hello or something.”

“I did,” Michael grinned again, “you still didn't respond. Welcome back to our planet.”

“So what is it you want?”

“Nothing; I just came to join you for lunch and you were away with the fairies – or rather the numbers. Is it difficult? The word is, nothing beats your pretty little brain when it comes to solving the professor's hypothesis and theorems, so if it's a maths problem your cogitating on, it must be pretty hot stuff.”

Callie grinned for she knew Mickey of old.

“Oy! Less of the 'pretty-little-brain' stuff you mysoginistic queer! Anyway, it's not maths; it's other stuff. The proff just left me with a tricky decision.”

“Like what?” Mickey grinned, ignoring her justifiable riposte to his 'pretty little brain' remark.

“I dunno exactly.” Ellie replied. It's summat to do with commercial research I think. He's thinking of offering me a place on some team or other to compose or compile some sort of research algorithms.”

“Mickey's jaw dropped enviously.”

Bloody hell Cal, if it's research then that means extra dosh. I'd go for it if I were you.”

Callie pursed her lips doubtfully.

“I want to know more before I plunge in. There's stuff I don't hold with, like some types of military research and what-have-you. Especially if it invades people's privacy. Besides, I'm pretty okay for cash what with the dukedom and stuff.”

Behind her back on the next table, Callie didn't notice a classmate's ears prick up at the mention of a dukedom and although Mickey was facing towards the guy, Mickey didn't know him because Mickey did not attend Callie's lectures except for some early applied maths lectures that he needed to sort out some physics project. Occasionally he asked Callie to check his maths or solve an equation because that what's mathematicians usually did and Naturally, Callie was more than pleased to help her longtime friend. The evesdropper was now sitting upright as he tried to listen in as Callie continued.

“It's not as though I'm starving now that Nan and I have got the estate back into the black and the quarrying income does help. Denton's doing well.”

Behind her the evesdropper smirked as he put two and two together. The whole academic year knew that there was reputed to be a duke attending their college that year and there had been much speculation as to his identity. Outside of the LGBT society few people knew that Callie was transgendered so the spotlight of curiosity had not landed on her. Most people still presumed dukes to be male and indeed every other British duke was. It would take at least one or even two generations before the new laws on gender-equal, primo-geniture succession filtered down.

Mickey and Callie discussed the physics problem that Mickey had come with and she helped compile a mathematical solution. Having put the academic problem to bed the pair then chatted until three oclock approached and Callie made her excuses.

“I'd better see what he wants.”

“See you later then babes, are you going to the LGBT meeting tonight?”

“Probably, unless the proff's stuff interferes.”

The pair parted as Mickey made his way to the laboratories. Unlike Callie, Mickey was something of a science geek and Wednesday afternoons were not for socialising or sport. It gave him extra time to utilise the laboratories. They met again that evening at the LGBT Society.

As she arrived outside the professor's study Callie's mind raced though dozen different scenarios before she composed herself and knocked softly.

“Come in.”

He stood sourteously and extended his hand as she approached the desk.

“I'm glad you've come. Are you still interested?”

“Interested sir but not yet commited.”

“To anything or just certain things?”

Callie paused as she picked her words carefully.

“Certain things sir, a lot of things.”

“Such as?”

“Well; human rights for starters. You may not know my background.”

“What about it?” The professor's brows knitted.

Callie pursed her lips. The professor, like nearly all heterosexual males, knew little about transgender issues as they specifically affected each transgendered person. Callie decided to do a bit of enlightening.

“Human rights are a huge issue for such as me and my transgendered friends sir. They transpose directly into transgendered rights and I, like all my tee-friends, guard them jealously.God knows, those rights are few enough.”

“Go on,” the proffessor prompted her.

“Just consider the history sir. Just look around you. Consider all the recent fuss and all the prejudiced bigotry thats being put out by dozens of different sources. Don't forget, we are the very last minority to have 'come out'. We only recently gained the full protection of the law and even that is only in few countries, and even then it's not always enforced. I hold those few protections dear for even now some are trying to destroy what few gains we've made. There are plenty who would destroy them.

Any attack on our transgender rights or the legal protection that support them will meet with my utmost resistance; and that includes any attacks by foreign agenceis as well as home-grown ones.”

A slow smile spread across the professor's face as he steepled his fingers. Callie paused curiously.

“Then I can offer you the opportunity to become a 'main-player' in your determination to address transphobia.”

It was Callie's turn to wonder.

“How?”

The professor hesitated as he picked his words.

“The university has won a major contract with a very important institution.”

“Are we talking Cheltenham and MI6?” Callie whispered softly.

The professor's irritation was clear.

“Dammit girl! You're sharp.”

Callie pulled a wry smile before replying. “Duhh! It's hardly rocket science, a seemingly innocent approach in full public view followed by 'cloake and dagger' stuff in your inner sanctum. So what's it all about?”

The professor hesitated again as he contemplated his approach. Finally he spoke.

“There's a new project being developed in Cheltenham. That's all I can say at present except to say it will involve a lot of maths.”

“There are plenty of mathematicians out there,” Callie countered.

“Indeed there are young lady, but very few with your level of numeritive intuition and practicality.”

“Meaning.”

The professor frowned uncertainly again as he wondered how to broach Callie's transgenderism.

“Well, – young lady. You have additional skills, additional insights enabled by your extraordinary circumstances.”

Callie's demeanour tensed as she immediately grasped what the professor was alluding to. She took the bull by the horns.

“You mean my transgenderism?”

The professor visibly relaxed once the issue had been revealed. As his shoulders sagged with no little relief, he expostulated. “Yess!”

“It was Callie's turn to be puzzled as she put words to the thoughts now running through her head.”

“Military intelligence, behavioural factors, algorithms, transgenderism – go on professor, you've got me intrigued and somewhat concerned. Will all this somehow affect my tee-sisters; and tee-brothers adversely?”

“Well – noo; not directly Miss Denton. If the programme we are trying to put together can help us hold our own in the cyber-warfare field, it might even help your collegues who are oppressed in foreign parts.”

“How quaintly put professor. Who are these 'sore-oppressed-peoples?'

“Well; in truth Miss Denton, just about any society where human rights are abused but to be honest, we'd be concentrating on countries deemed to be threatening the UK.”

“Your honesty is to be applauded professor, so that'll be Russia, China and Islam.”

“Islam is not a country.”

“Huh. That's disingenous professor. Islam threatens me and my sisters almost every day.”

“What! On Campus?”

“No. It's mostly in my head, you know, inherent an incipient prejudice in places like the debating chamber and occasionally physically on the street. So far never physically on Campus though I've been verbally abused in the debating chamber.”

“Do you deem Islam to be a threat to Britain then?”

Callie sighed.

“It's a threat to me because I'm transgendered, and as for my gay friends well you've seen the survey results. Truly, I consider Islam to be a threat to me and mine but I don't usually broadcast my private feelings. Political correctness proscribes that; however you just scratched an itch. Was it intentional.”

Callie silently berated herself for revealing her innermost feelings. She continued regretfully.

“There, I've already said too much. So what's all this about human rights?”

The professor smiled inwardly for hef felt he might have found a way to persuade the girl genius to provide her valuable skills. Ignoring Callie's seemingly Islamophobic revelation he pressed on with his offer.

“Basically, it's all to do with cyber-warfare and constantly updating our armouries.”

“So you want my mathematical skills to - “

“Stay ahead of the game,” the professor finished her sentence.

“Will my input lead to any human rights abuses, you know, supporting corrupt regimes, illegal imprisonment, torture, religious bigotry, murdering my brothers and sisters, and so on?”

“Yes.”

The professors candour unsettled her momentarily. Caught somewhat 'on-the-back-foot', Callie wondered what his agender compiled. Caution bells rang in her brain as she tried to discerne his stratergy. Cautiously she replied.

“That reply does not reassure me overtly. I know there's a twist here but you've caught me cold. You know what you're after while I'm beginning to feel like a fish investigating the bait.”

“I'm being realistic Miss Denton. I would be a liar if I said that everything in the garden was rosy. Cybernetics is a dirty war – and getting dirtier.”

“I know about reality professor,” Callie replied softly. “As a tee-girl, I need hardly say more. To untwist your answer I'l rephrase my question.

Will my input increase those abuses? - Worldwide that is.”

“Hopefully not, but I cannot say so with certainty.”

“Well at least you're being honest,” Callie conceded. “Tell me what sort of topics and scenarios are we considering.”

“Behavioural probabilities, predicting them mainly and honing their accuracies; identifying and quantifying the factors that would be entered into the predictive algorithms.”

Callie sucked through pursed lips.

“That's a huge field. My first thoughts are already contraindicating your main hypothesis. It would be easier to ascertain bahavioural improbabilities and the maths of 'improbability' is poorly studied. In any event it's not a 'mirrored negative' to the probability theory.”

The professors eyes narrowed.

“Has this girl already been playing with numbers on her own?” He wondered.

“How would you know that?” He asked bluntly.

“I don't; at least not with any certainty. There are too many behavioural variables for me to identify with any confidence. That would need behavioural psychiatrists, xeno-psychiatrist and therapists before I could even begin to quantify the stuff and then run some numbers. It would take months if not years to compile an accurate functional algorithm.

Partial iterations and full iterations could take months to 'fine-line'. Just compiling the basic equations is an exercise in improbability not to mention probability.”

The professor stared silently as he absorbed Callie's words.

“Have you been studying this stuff in your spare time?”

Like most mathematicians, Callie often composed problems in her head then tried to find solutions. It just so happened that Callie often wondered why monotheist people hated transgendered people so much and she had dabbled with numbers whilst idly trying to analyse the social equations. She had not had much success. Asking random samples of people about their thoughts on gender was a sure way to attract unwanted attention.

'How does one qualify and quantify emotions sociologically?' She often wondered. ' What value does culture have in the algoritm – or religion? She had processed such ideas in her head many many times' but her answers had invariably thrown up more prblems than they solved. It was all a matter of information – information – information.'

Had the professor but known it, he had struck unexpected gold by inviting Callie to join his research but such was Callie's tight-lipped reticence, he had no inkling that the transgendered girl before him was already ahead of the game. She was perhaps one thousandth part of the way along the path whilst the Professor and his colleagues at GCHQ in Cheltenham were perhaps one millionth of a part down that same road.

Behavioural improbability theory was a huge, tortuous field. A functional accurate algorithm comprising all the factors would be years in the compilation.