Chapter 3: Justice
Snow fluttered through the air, swirling in a circle as it slowly sank to the ground. Flakes touched the castle turret, which was whiter from the snow than gray from the rock foundation. A boy with a sled lay frozen to the ground, his sightless eyes looking forward into space beyond his sphere. I shook the snow globe again, marvelling at the detail; a silly gift from my mother before her accident.
I sat down in a comfortable armchair by my father’s desk, surveying the shelves of books in his office. Why would you read from these bulky things when you had so much information on your tablet? I pulled one from the wall. It was titled, Frontier Justice, with a hangman and noose on the cover. A body dangled from the rope while a crowd watched with silent interest.
“See something you like?” I turned and looked into a drone eye. Its flashing red light swallowed me in its viewer. I was too shocked to answer, so my dad spoke, entering from the doorway.
“You remember Lord Morall don’t you, honey?” he asked. “Last time you saw him you were probably in grade three.”
“Of—of course,” I stammered. “It’s good to see you again, sir.” Lord Morall oversaw all of the lawyers on the government staff, including my dad. Because safety was all-important in the city, he seemed to have more power than the mayor or other city officials. He was tall and thin, almost like a scarecrow, with cropped gray, thinning hair. His eye was one of the early drone transplants; today replacements were barely noticeable. His presence unnerved me, and although his good eye turned to Dad, his drone eye studied me.
“It’s wonderful to see children of our lawyers visiting their parents at work. Makes me think we’re training the next generation for our legal system.” Lord Morall slapped Dad too hard on the shoulder and a pen came tumbling out his hand. As Dad stooped down to pick it up, Lord Morall stared at me with a pleasant smile, but his drone eye seemed to dissect my innermost thoughts. I shuddered uncontrollably.
“So what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, Pene?” My dad half smiled and then reconsidered. “You didn’t get into any trouble today?”
“No, Dad,” I answered, “I have a school project on the evolution of the legal system and my teacher kind of wanted some information straight from the source.” Before he could answer, Lord Morall intervened.
“Well, you’ve come to the right place, young lady. Since the great earthquake, the legal system has evolved into a flawless, efficient machine. Do you know that your dad has a 99% prosecution rate?”
“He’s mentioned once or a hundred times,” I replied, a smile cracking my face. Lord Morall sat down on the couch in the corner, folding his long, thin legs.
“You live in exciting times. Do you realize that we have thousands of cameras strategically placed throughout the city at most major intersections and venues? Coupled with satellite footage, no crime goes undetected. The crime rate is single digits, and justice is swift.” Lord Morall looked satisfied with his lesson.
“Imagine before you’re born,” my dad added. “Trials could take years, and many times criminals went free. I received footage from a crime today. Trial will be tomorrow and the sentencing the day after. Our justice system is fair and swift.” A question bubbled up from my thoughts. I hesitated, since it was something I would usually ask Dad when we were alone.
“Do many crimes go undetected? I mean, we can’t have cameras everywhere.” My question seemed to energize Lord Morall, who jumped up from the couch like a man half his age to respond.
“Excellent question, my dear. I can see you following in your father’s footsteps.” He beamed. His smile was sharp, though, like a politician’s, and I doubted his sincerity. “One of my jobs has been to lobby our government for more drones, more cameras to watch over and protect our society. Their costs are expensive but the benefits of a safe society can’t be measured in dollars and cents. The Justice Committee has even explored ‘other avenues’ of observation.” His eyes shone as if we were discussing a favorite hobby.
“Such as…?” I leaned in, hoping for a hint in his cryptic description.
“Pene!” my dad interrupted, embarrassed at my forwardness.
Lord Morall laughed. “Ah, the youth of today, always so inquisitive.” He stepped up to leave. “I can’t give all our secrets away — we don’t want the criminals to learn how to evade them.” He leaned forward to tap me on the shoulder. I’m sure he thought it was a fatherly gesture but it just felt creepy to me. I involuntarily shivered. His grin was piecing and his drone eye scanned me once more as he exited.
“Evan, don’t forget to review the latest case before you go home.” He waved and disappeared into the hall. My dad fixed me with a reproachful stare.
“You know that he is one of the most powerful men in the city,” he said as he sat down at his desk. I slumped into the couch across from him.
“I’m sorry. He scares me with his drone eye. It throws me off.”
“Well, just remember he protects people like you and me. Just because his eye is a machine, it doesn’t make him any less human. Come on, they must teach you something in school about treating people equally?” I made a face at him. He began to sweep his fingers over the computer tablet and then stopped. “How come you came to see me at work? You haven’t done that in years. Do you need money?” I could see he was jokingly trying to get under my skin.
“No, Dad. Can’t your lovely daughter come see you at work?” I batted my eyelashes to add to the exaggeration. My dad simply stared at me, waiting for me to come clean. “Okay.” I slouched further into the couch. “I procrastinated and have a history project due on the evolution of justice. My teacher requested,” I lied, “that I interview you to get details on how the justice system has changed over the years. I know how tired you get at home so I thought I’d catch you at work.” I raised my eyebrows in the insane hope that I was making my eyes bigger and my face cuter. It had the desired effect.
“When’s it due?” he asked.
“Next week, and he wants about 5,000 words.” Now it was my father’s turn to raise his eyebrows.
“Well, you have some work ahead of you. Pull out your recorder and get your list of questions out. I just need five minutes to scrub through this footage.” He pointed at his tablet. “And then we can get started.”
Someone knocked on the door.
“Come in,” my dad commanded. I felt wary that Lord Morall had returned, as if his drone eye wanted to examine me further. Instead, a younger man came in with a stack of papers.
“Sorry to interrupt,” the clerk said to Dad. “I need you to sign off on the footage from the last case.”
“Just send it to my tablet, I’ll sign,” my dad said without looking up. The clerk seemed embarrassed.
“I can’t, server problems — can you come down to my office? It has to be finalized today.” My dad leaned back in his chair, resigned. He turned to me as he got up. “Be back in a few minutes, stay out of trouble?” He grinned.
“Yes — Dad.” I faked exasperation as the two of them left the office. I pulled out my tablet and looked around the office. Dad was very old school — lots of artifacts from the legal system over the years. Most things were ancient: a set of scales, an old wooden gavel and a bunch of paper books lined the top shelf. I grabbed a book and blew dust off the jacket, and some of it blew back in my face. I coughed and opened the front cover. There was a picture of person on a wooden stand surrounded by a group of people ready to judge him. Justice seemed strange back them, having you peers try to decide your fate. Today’s drones played back your crime and the lawyers gave their foregone conclusion. Neat, clean and final. No appeals required.
I looked over at my dad’s desk, and an image caught my eye. I turned to the door and didn’t hear any footsteps in the hall. I went over to desk, where Dad’s tablet lay. A familiar face stared out at me, frozen in terror. Lou! Could Dad have been assigned his case? Dad always made it clear that his work was private, that I was never allowed to see his cases. My fingers tapped the screen, if my dad caught me scrubbing through the footage, I was worse than dead.
Seconds later the familiar images of the Marks scrolled through the tablet. The grungy stalls, customers haggling over prices, the resolution was so vivid, I felt I was there. The camera angle was high and erratic, probably from a flying drone. Below, I could make out Lou’s form, stocky and balding. He was walking down an aisle and then turned ninety degrees into a nearby stall. The camera angle changed and was fixed, likely mounted on a wall. Lou sat at a table and pulled out a metal box. The camera cut to a close-up of his hands, taking cash from the box and stuffing his pockets.
I sat back in the chair, saddened by my discovery. I didn’t know Lou well but I thought I was a good judge of character. Why would he steal? He knew the penalty if he was caught. He was either desperate or stupid. ’Course, I was one to talk; unless you were a lawyer authorized by the ministry, it was a crime to view criminal footage. And I was probably a minute away from being discovered. Besides, I had discovered what I wanted. Lou was guilty and probably deserved his punishment.
I looked at the tablet and noticed there was extra footage time. Curious, I pushed my luck and tapped the scroll bar. The footage was shot from above and showed the central area of the Marks. My heart leapt into my throat as I could make out my backpack in the corner of the footage as it scrolled the scene. It was quick and you couldn’t see my face, but it was me. Pray Dad doesn’t recognize me. The camera panned and I recognized Lou running through the aisle. I recognized his lumbering pace, and then the drone caught up and lifted him like a feather. Then the camera closed in his mouth as he yelled, “I stole it! I’m guilty!”
I stopped the footage and rewound. Did I hear that incorrectly? Lou never confessed – he claimed he was innocent! I played it again, but the audio was the same. It doesn’t make sense, that didn’t happen. I slowed the footage down but the audio matched Lou’s mouth movements. If the footage was doctored, they sure did a good job. If I hadn’t been there, I would have believed it. Except it’s fake. And then I thought of something else that seemed wrong. I looked up, knowing I had to look at the footage again, even if Dad walked right in at that moment.
I scrolled the footage again from before, watching Lou walking, turning into a stall, and then stealing from the cash box. Something bugged me. Why did the camera angle change? I looked closely. The arms in the close-up seemed off. Lou’s a hairy guy and these arms seemed almost normal. Obviously, I couldn’t prove it unless I had Lou’s arms to compare with, but to the uninformed you’d never know. Except I knew now — but what could I do with the information? Dad would never believe me; the law was perfect in his eyes. And I would be grounded for life. There was only one thing I could do.
“You ready to go?” my dad said, entering the room. I didn`t turn right away, trying to compose my face. “You okay?” he asked while picking up his tablet. I looked up from the couch and smiled.
“Everything’s great, Dad. If you have twenty minutes, I have a few questions for you for my assignment.”