The presentations of evidence had been dragging on for three hours. Lars oscillated between nervousness and boredom. But there was always a dull undertone of fear, just as much from the situation as from the High Chancellor’s proximity. Lars wanted out of the pod, the courtroom, the immersion tank.
He didn’t understand why they had to go through the records in such detail if they were all pre-submitted. Guess that’s why I’m not a lawyer, Lars thought, holding in a sigh.
“So,” Tertiary said, wheeling on the crowd from the middle of the Floor and raising his plasti-sheet for emphasis, “per said evidence you will find the calculation for funds owed to be most reasonable and in line with precedents.”
The man sure knew how to put on a show. He understood the role of popular opinion. The last half hour had focused on other cases of unauthorized software use and IP infringement by both regular companies and non-profits. Most of the other High Seats were unreadable; the Deinya Minister looked bored.
“With the High Chancellor’s permission,” Tertiary said next, “I will now move on to refute the code violation.”
The crowd’s murmur got louder and the High Chancellor answered with the slightest flick of his hand. He leaned his elbow on the armrest of his throne-like High Seat and waited with an almost glare.
“Thank you.” Tertiary nodded, then addressed the four other officials looking down on the room from their Seats, pacing the gray tiles in front of them. “We do not dispute the fact of F-311246.3’s destruction. That was an accident, which FRC deeply regrets and for which we have taken steps to prevent recurrence. We do contest, however, the application of Code A421.”
The muffled voices seemed to shift in tone at Lars’s back. He wished he could understand what they were saying but the sound dampening prevented it.
“My good people.” The Cogitare turned to face the crowd, spreading his arms. “We have a process by which Conglomerate membership is granted. This is for the greater good. For all of us.” He smiled.
Then he raised the plasti-sheet to read, though Lars suspected he didn’t need it. “It is well known that one of its requirements is a certain level of societal advancement. This protects the well-being of all our members. While the loss of a planet with life is tragic, we humbly assert that A421 cannot apply to this population and therefore could not have been violated. I will now bring forth Orators in support of this claim.”
Tertiary took three steps back from the middle of the Floor. “First Orator.”
A strangely-clothed man loaded in, taller than a Cogitare but similar in biology. Lars assumed he was from F-311246.3. His wide-legged pants looked to be a thick fuzzy fabric, white with irregular black blobs. His short-sleeved shirt was a spiral of bright colors, bleeding into each other.
Do they all dress like this? he wondered. Is it special clothing for some ritual? Lars felt a pang of regret, wishing more of their culture could have been preserved. It must have been fascinating.
The man clutched his ears. He must still be acclimating. When he lowered his hands he shook his head and seemed to mutter something Lars couldn’t hear.
Tertiary gestured to the alien man, pacing behind him. “Please confirm for the court, that you are from the planet F-311246.3, Earth.”
“I’m from Earth. Texas specifically, that’s in the Youess Sovay.” The voice had a drawl to it. The translation matrix typically did a good job of approximating tone.
“And would you say you are a typical Earther?”
“Guess so. Uh, we call ourselves humans.” The human shrugged. “It’s a big place.”
“Yes, it was. We’re very sorry for your loss. How should we refer to you today?”
“The name is Dale Clegg.”
Tertiary nodded, continuing his pacing. “Now, Dale Clegg of humans, I understand that you are quite accomplished in the Preserve 1 Continuance. Particularly with respect to combat with other travelers. Please tell us about that.”
“Dale is fine. And it’s not real hard.” Another shrug. “I find choke points and hidin’ spots. Just wait and then bam.” He made a strange gesture with his thumb and forefinger. Lars wasn’t sure if it was an insult or religious. Maybe it was related to his clothes.
“And how many people have you bammed?” Tertiary drew out the last word with raised eyebrows.
“Couple hundred. I probly got some people more than once.”
“Well, aren’t you an accomplished killer?”
The man nodded and shrugged.
“Thank you for your Oration. First Orator dismissed.”
The human disappeared looking like he was about to say something. But perhaps that expression meant something different on his world. There was too much Lars didn’t know.
“Several hundred kills,” Tertiary recounted, pacing towards the crowd. “No remorse. ‘It’s easy,’ he said. And by his own admission, he is a typical example of his people.” The Cogitare halted, scanning faces. “Is that the kind of people we want to flood The Conglomerate with? The Continuance? I think not.”
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
Tertiary pivoted to face the High Seats, commanding, “Second Orator,” as he turned.
A Deinya appeared in the center of the Floor, or perhaps he was from their sister-world, but his clothing was off. He wore something metal on his head and oversized blue padding on his hands. Lars didn’t know the man. What would he have to say about the case? The murmur of the crowd got louder as if they were thinking the same thing.
“Please confirm for the court,” Tertiary said, pacing behind the Orator as he had before, “that you are from the planet F-311246.3, Earth.”
What? Lars gripped the seat cushion of his pod.
“Yes, I’m from Earth.” The stranger swished his tail forward and held it in one hand.
How is that possible?
“Despite this man’s appearance, he is indeed from planet F-311246.3. As the records earlier established, proper scan procedures were not followed. In context scans are simply not done and for good reason. We have determined that, in this case, a scan error resulted from proximity to a lesser life form.”
The Orator shrunk at that statement.
“Please tell the court your designation,” Tertiary instructed.
“Kurtis Aoki? Hi?” The strange man gave a small wave. At least Lars knew that gesture.
“I understand that you have had a rough time with other travelers.”
The Kurtis Aoki nodded slowly. He still held his tail.
“Please tell us about it.”
“It’s been a rough fifty days.” The Kurtis Aoki moved his free hand to the side. “I’m glad I found my group. I don’t think I would have made it as far without them.”
“Yes, yes, and please share some details about your hardships.”
“Well, losing my home and everyone I knew for starters.”
Tertiary stopped pacing for just a moment. Lars knew that hint of an expression. It was barely there and for only an instant. This was not going as the lawyer was expecting. Lars narrowed his eyes and sat forward, no longer caring if the crowd could see.
“Um, it was really tough not knowing what was going on,” the Kurtis Aoki said. “I thought I was dreaming or going crazy. For a long time. We all did. The truth was really hard.”
Lars's stomach churned. He knew that feeling of un-reality. He’d lived in that feeling for weeks after the incident, but what this man had endured was so much worse.
“Tell us about the other travelers,” Tertiary gritted out.
“I’m partied with three others for the Megabowl. Um, we’ve been together for almost the entire time? Matt’s our tank. He shoulders a lot of burdens, he’d take mine if he could. Fallyn’s smart and intuitive. She doesn’t say a lot but you can tell she cares.”
Tertiary’s face was turning red. He gripped the plasti-sheet so hard that if they weren’t in The Continuance, the page would be ruined.
“Val’s fearless and believes in everybody. She annoys me sometimes, but she always sees the best in people and cheers you on.”
“I asked you here to speak about your experiences in combat with other travelers?” Tertiary seethed.
“Um, okay, well, we work together pretty well as a group. As I mentioned, Matt’s our tank. He didn’t know much about MMOs at the start but he’s getting the hang of it. I’m our healer. Fallyn’s a bit of a glass cannon and Val and her pet Wiggles—”
“Second Orator dismissed,” Tertiary snapped and then the Kurtis Aoki disappeared. The Cogitare straightened his robe and fixed a smile on his face. “That Orator was of F-311246.3 and yet appeared to us as a Deinya. Whether or not he was complicit, it is a clear violation of Continuance terms of service. Additionally, we are fortunate that his scan error was so obvious. What hidden corruption might we be inviting? The Continuance plays a vital role in our economy and our lives, supporting Harvest, connecting us with loved ones, enriching end-of-life for our elders, creating new opportunities for prosperity and profit every day. We cannot risk all that.”
Tertiary called three more Orators, more similar to the first in appearance and words, but Lars couldn’t get the second one out of his head. How was that type of error even possible? Most people in The Conglomerate knew the basics, and Lars knew a bit more. As a kid, excited to be approaching baseline, Lars had read up on it. That was years ago now, but it couldn’t have changed that much. That error shouldn’t be possible.
“High Chancellor, High Seats, Continuance People,” Tertiary said, drawing Lars back to reality. The Cogitare spun as he addressed each party. “With these five Orators, I believe we have witnessed sufficient risks and primitive tendencies. In case any of you worry that this makes them unreliable, my final Orator is one of our own.”
Tertiary turned and fixed his gaze on Lars. This was the moment he’d been dreading. “I would have the only Conglomerate citizen with first-hand information join me on the Floor: Lars family Dexius.”
Shaking, Lars stood from his pod. All eyes followed the Harvester Operator as he crossed the large gray tiles.
“Murderer!” someone yelled.
Lars winced.
“You should be ashame—” The word was clipped as the sound dampening adjusted. The voice disappeared into the murmur.
He was ashamed. And horrified. And afraid. He’d had a lot of time to think about it. That’s all he’d been doing for the last fifty days. He’d gone over it a thousand times. He felt guilty but he’d followed protocol. It didn’t make sense how it could’ve happened and his brain was still struggling to comprehend the scale. Lars's throat bobbed as he assumed a position facing Tertiary, offering opposite side profiles to the crowd and High Seats, as Meela had instructed.
“Lars family Dexius,” the Cogitare said. “Were you the Harvester Operator present for the incident with planet F-311246.3?”
Lars nodded.
Tertiary raised his eyebrows.
Lars cleared his throat. “Yes, I was.”
“Thank you. I have but one question for this man.” Tertiary held up a finger and turned to ensure both the crowd and the High Seats could see him shaking it. It was as if he expected the finger to hold the answers to the case. “Does anything you learned about the people of F-311246.3 leading up to the incident controvert my findings?”
Lars swallowed. “No.”
It was the truth. It was just the wrong question. He hadn’t learned anything about the people before the incident. That was how they got into this mess.
Lars schooled his expression. Meela had said to say as little as possible and only answer what he was asked. By The Five it was difficult in this moment. He stole a glance up at her, face neutral on her High Seat. She better know what she’s doing.
“Thank you, Lars family Dexius.” Tertiary clasped his hands at his back with his plasti-sheet.
Lars walked back to his pod and sunk into its padded walls. He needed this to be over—whatever the outcome.
The next hour was a blur. He was called to the Floor by Meela but he barely processed what was happening. They’d practiced the questions dozens of times. He could practically recite them in his sleep. He felt asleep, so it was a good thing they had.
She had him walk through his recruitment and onboarding, the little training FRC had provided. Then she asked a few questions about the day of the incident. Everything leading up to it was by protocol. What happened after wasn’t, but there was no procedure for that, no training for the situation. It wasn’t supposed to be possible.