Nora agreed. They informed Laurel, who was already dealing with Simon’s complaint. She called building security and requested that they check Room C14. The group remained in a public lounge, where volunteers had placed pitchers of water and stacks of unused conference programs.
Twenty minutes later Laurel returned with a sober expression. “There’s someone in the room. Not Simon. A freelance producer contracted to run the vendor’s demonstrations. He was preparing a second presentation from recordings that the committee had prohibited. Security has stopped it and asked him to leave.”
“Did he send the message?” Nora asked.
“We don’t know yet. The number has been forwarded to the appropriate people.”
“So they were going to show us again.”
“They were trying,” Laurel said. “They won’t do it here.”
The interruption drew attention to a deeper problem. Stopping one presentation didn’t make the recordings vanish. Former participants were now asking who held copies, how many clients had received them, and whether the material could be withdrawn. Laurel offered contact information for independent legal assistance and announced that the conference would suspend discussion of any products using nonconsensual behavior footage until its review was complete.
Simon, hearing of the producer’s removal, approached from the far end of the hall. He no longer smiled.
“You’ve turned a serious research program into a spectacle,” he told Elena.
“You brought cameras into my backyard,” she answered.
“One of our staff placed a location marker. That doesn’t prove what you think.”
“I’m not asking you to agree with my interpretation. I’m asking why you believed I had agreed to participate.”
“Our consent process is comprehensive.”
“Then show me my consent.”
Simon opened his mouth and closed it. His eyes flicked toward Nora.
“Mrs. Fenwick knows the program’s structure,” he said.
“I knew what you told me,” Nora replied. “And the one thing I knew for certain was that you wanted her angry.”
Several attendees had stopped walking. Laurel asked the group to move out of the thoroughfare, but Simon remained rooted in place.
“Your company came here to sell a prediction,” Elena said. “That people under pressure behave badly. I don’t need a prediction to know that. What I want to know is why you applied the pressure and then pretended it came from nowhere.”
He looked over their shoulders toward the gathered crowd. “This is an unfair conversation.”
“Then walk away,” Nora said. “I’m not making you stay.”
For an instant Elena thought Simon might shout. Instead he turned and strode down the corridor, pursued only by the sound of his own shoes. No one applauded. It was better that way. The adults who had been manipulated had not become heroes in a performance. They had simply refused to provide the angry ending he expected.
