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That evening, she sits alone in her kitchen. It is so silent. So damn silent. No music from Zara’s room. NoFriendson TV. It’s usually only this silent when Zara is on a school trip or spending the night at a friend’s house. But this is a different kind of silence. Today it’s a cold silence. Even though Zara is only at Grandma and Grandpa’s. Michael even waited until the local standby officers relieved him. Zara’s safe. Right? Then why does the silence in her apartment feel so damn cold?
She has to solve this case as quickly as possible to get out of this nightmare. She wants her life back. She wants her daughter back. Yasira sits down at the electric piano, something she hasn’t done for a long time, and plays Chopin. It doesn’t help much to dispel her gloomy mood. How must Frank Palmer be feeling? Then her thoughts jump back to the video. Is it really fake? Yasira considers telling Palmer about her suspicions, but decides against it. She needs evidence first.
The next morning, Yasira calls Zara’s principal from her office. She thought long and hard about what the best strategy would be, ultimately deciding in favor of openness. The class must be talked to. If one of Zara’s classmates took the picture, they need to be made aware that it wasn’t just a stupid student prank, but potentially life-threatening.
She spends the rest of the morning scrutinizing various right-wing groups in Germany. There are an astonishing number of them. AfD members, libertarians, identitarians, Reichsbürger, right-wing esoterics, folkish ecologists, autonomous nationalists, cross-front activists, info warriors, right-wing hooligans, neo-Nazis... The list seems endless. And if you look at their collective activities, the damage they have already caused is enormous. It is completely incomprehensible to Yasira that the supposedly resilient democracy has failed to strike back with full force long ago. But which of these people could be behind the video? Who would have the technical capabilities? Or was Katja Jürgens right? Was it the Russians? The AfD in government would be a lucky break for Putin. So much is clear. Yasira keeps stumbling across calls for the demonstration this afternoon. Seems like it’s going to be a big deal.
By noon, Yasira is fed up and quits her research. She’s not getting anywhere. Fortunately, they have an appointment at AlmostReal at three p.m. She needs to get out of here. Away from this screen.
After lunch, Yasira and Michael head to the start-up’s headquarters. According to the company itself, they are the only German company “involved in AI-based image generation on a global scale.” The acquisition by Google has apparently proven that.
However, the premises in Neukölln are not as fancy as you would expect from Google or Apple as seen on TV. Instead, it is a former industrial building filled with cubicles with numerous computers and screens. It doesn’t look all that different from the BKA.
Yasira and Michael have an appointment with the PR lady and a business clown from AlmostReal. Mandy and Ryan. Yasira had requested the technical director to attend the meeting, but he is nowhere to be seen.
“I’d like to ask you to keep the following conversation confidential,” Yasira says right at the beginning, “as it pertains to an ongoing police investigation.”
She hopes to keep the platitudes as short as possible.
“What’s it about?” Mandy asks, surprised.
“Perhaps it would be advisable for us to consult a lawyer?” Ryan inquires. His German is very good, but he has a slight accent. English? Irish? American?
“No. Don’t worry,” says Michael. “We’re just interested in your expertise.”
At that moment, the door opens. A man with a ponytail comes in.
“Excuse me! Hi! I’m Tom Schiller. Like the poet. Not the actor. I’m the CTO.”
Yasira or Michael must have looked puzzled, because Tom Schiller adds: “The Chief Technical Officer. The technical director.”
Yasira nods. Tom Schiller sits down and seems to instantly go into a kind of standby mode. She estimates him to be in his late twenties. He’s probably not used to not having a screen in front of his eyes. She would have liked to bet Michael whether Mr. Poet could endure their entire conversation without checking his phone in between.
“We’re investigating the case of Lena Palmer,” Michael begins, “I’m sure you’ve heard about it.”
“The video,” says the PR woman.
“Yes. The video,” says Yasira.
“And what does that have to do with us?” asks the business clown.
Yasira smiles. “Nothing, I hope.”
Mandy catches on faster than her boss. “You’re wondering if the video could be computer generated? If it’s a fake?”
Tom Schiller, the technical director, suddenly comes back to life. “We have naturally discussed this internally,” he says.
“You did?” Yasira asks in astonishment. “Why?”
“We do that with a lot of videos that go viral now. An occupational disease, I guess.”
“And what conclusion did you come to?”
“Most likely genuine. We stopped discussing it when it became clear that the girl is actually missing.”
“Most likely genuine?” asks Yasira. “So you’re not sure?”
“Well, that’s basically the gist of what we’re doing. We’re trying to generate something that looks real and, ideally, is indistinguishable from authentic footage.”
