Page 26 of The Proving Ground
“I understand. But thank you for hearing me out.”
“I’ll see you there.”
11
JOANIE’S WAS Alocals’ hangout. By the time we found it, Kitchens was already at a table in the rear. As we sat down across from her, I introduced McEvoy. They shook hands and Kitchens knew the name.
“You wrote the DNA book, right?” she said. “About that predator down in L.A., the one who used genetic traits to pick his victims.”
“Uh, yes, that was me,” McEvoy said. “Fair Warning.You read it?”
“I did,” Kitchens said. “Definitely in my sphere as an ethicist.”
“Cool,” McEvoy said. “I write a Substack. You should check it out.”
On the way over, I had told McEvoy I wanted to shift things in the second conversation with Kitchens. He would be the lead, and this would allow me to analyze her answers without having to worry about keeping the conversation going. It would also allow me to watch McEvoy to get a read on how much of an asset he would be to the case. He had already shown his skills as a digger by coming up with Kitchens. Now I would see how well he could use an interview to get case information. He knew that I had set two goals for the trip to Palo Alto. So far, we had achieved neither.
A waitress arrived at the table, put down menus, and took our order for iced teas all around.
“So,” McEvoy said. “Why academia?”
“I know what you’re thinking,” Kitchens said. “Those who can, do. Those who can’t, teach.”
“No, not at all,” McEvoy said. “I’m just wondering how bad it got at Tidalwaiv that you said, ‘The hell with this whole AI business.’”
“Yeah, well, it got bad,” Kitchens said. “And my sense was that this was an industry-wide issue, not just a Tidalwaiv problem. Ethics were not really part of the equation. They needed to say they were paying attention to it, but it was the Wild West. They didn’t care about ethics.”
“That’s a pretty strong statement. You mean there weren’t enough guardrails?”
“I mean, what guardrails?”
“So what did you tell them when you quit?”
I wanted to call time out before he finished the question, but it was too late. He had taken it a step too far.
“That would be considered work product,” Kitchens said. “I can’t talk to you about work product.”
I could tell by her demeanor that the question had reminded her who she was talking to and that it wasn’t an innocent lunchtime chat.
“Oh, okay,” McEvoy said. “I didn’t realize—”
No, not okay. I had to step in. “I assume your nondisclosure prohibits you from talking about work product with competitors and probably the media,” I said. “We’re neither.”
“He just said he writes a Substack,” Kitchens said. “That’s media.”
“He’s not writing about this case now,” I said. “He’s part of the plaintiff’s team. Once the trial is over, he may decide to—”
“I don’t really care,” Kitchens said. “I’m not—”
She stopped when the waitress came back and put three iced teas infront of us. The waitress seemed to read the intensity at the table and didn’t ask if we were ready to order. She just turned around and left us alone. I felt my phone vibrating in my pocket but it was not the time to take a call.
“Naomi, we need your help,” I said. “This company’s creation turned a kid into a killer. I think you tried to stop that from happening. We’re trying to stop it from happening again.”
“I help you, and what’s to stop them from coming after me?” Kitchens asked. “You don’t understand. These people are as dangerous as their product.”
I nodded and put my hands out, palms down, in a calming motion.
“There is nothing in all of the discovery materials we have received about Project Clair that so much as has your initials on it,” I said. “And I happen to know that the first rule of ethical oversight is ‘Document everything.’ Professor Kitchens, did you do that?”
