Judges

Chapter Fourteen

Infinity

"Look Alastair, stop messing with everything, please."

"I wasn't messing with anything! I was helping. I helped you with something, didn't I?"

"I said I could do this myself. Without any interference. I want you to hold up your end of the bargain and let me 'live normally,' like you said I can when I'm doing my job."

"Augusta, I'm just trying to help. Please. I want you to hurry up so you can come back up here and be with me."

What is he talking about? Why does he have to be so handsome. Stupid, beautiful blue eyes and wavy blonde, transfixing hair-

"Why do you care?" I stare him down.

"Because-" He hesitates. "Because you're my friend. And I haven't really had a good, long talk with you in a while, it's just that. I want to spend time with you, don't you understand?"

"So talk. What do you do for this void of an existence?"

He smiles. "Same thing, managing relations with the Judges, and it's been fine for the past few years. Incident rates have gone down."

"Sure."

"Really, Augusta, they have. Ninety percent, in fact, and we are looking at the stats every single day. I mean, it was really only your cases that ended like that. I know it's hard to believe, but you got the most of the accidents."

"No, it's easy to believe. A lot of stuff happened then, I know that."

"And you're fine with it?" He walks over and rests his hand on my shoulder, standing six inches taller than me.

"No, of course I'm not fine with it, what happened in 1988 was the worst thing someone can experience."

"1988 was the worst year we've ever had. The fire was the-"

"It wasn't just the fire, Alastair. It was the whole year. Every single month of it, each month brought a new terror, a new accident, a new person I had to watch die, and I hate it. You don't even understand, and you never will." I brush his hand off my shoulder and turn away. I need to get out.

I walk to the door of the white room and let myself out. The hallway is bustling with Judges returning and going to their offices, and I blend in with the crowd heading down the hallway heading to the Observation Room. I hear Alastair's office door open and shut again behind me, and I know he's following.

"Augusta, please don't be angry. I'm sorry I brought it up."

"Alastair, you always say that but then you bring it up again."

"Stop, come back please. I want to talk in my office."

"No, I want to go to the Observation Room, alone. Please."

He sighs in response and straightens his necktie, and returns to his office where the door shuts with a click. I stand there, getting jostled by the crowd, before I turn and resume walking to the Observation Room.

As I approach the heavy wooden doors, I wonder how much it has changed in the seven years since I last saw it, in 1987. I push on the doors and they budge open, and a rush of cool air meets me. The old room sits there, quiet and empty, and I enter and close the door behind me, and realize the room is dimly lit, just the opposite of what it used to be.

It used to be bright, and crowded, and loud. Now it is empty, unused, and silent.

This room used to be my favorite, with its endless knowledge and glass orbs sitting on neat shelves organized by city. I used to enjoy coming in here, when it was still new, and hold the orbs, and look at the city. As I held the orb, the vision of the city would come into my mind, bright and clear. I could see it, a view from above, and if I willed it I could zoom in or focus on someone or something, and watch. I could watch anyone, at anytime, and all I really ever did was watch people on dates.

That was after I first died.

I would watch people on dates and wish it had been me, instead, with the boy.

I would watch the parks, restaurants, rivers and people.. I would simply glance, and hide if someone came down the row I was standing in while I was crying.

I decide to look at my favorite city, Copenhagen. It always was my favorite, close to the door, and small and quaint and peaceful and calming. If I wanted to stop crying I would look at Copenhagen, at Tivoli, and calm down.

As I hold Copenhagen's orb, and the cool glass touches my ethereal skin, I see the people walking around the city, near the colorful buildings and the clean air and the palace itself.

I ask myself, quietly, why am I judging Jared?

I mean, he isn't all who he will be. We judge people twice, maybe even three times, because people change over time, and they might die before they reach their full potential.

I guess it's important to know exactly who Jared is before he dies, at least who he is now.

He is someone I have strong feelings for, but I'm not sure if they're good or bad, or indescribable. I think I'm growing to like him, but that's against my code.

My entire philosophy.

I can't get attached, just like a scientist to a little mouse. I have to conduct the experiment, whether the mouse likes it or no, because it's for the good of science, or in this case his own good. I can't think of him as any more than just another person.

He wouldn't want to get too attached to me either, because no matter what he thinks, I can't stay. I wouldn't be any good to him, I could never be like him. And sooner or later, the real Augusta will be wanting her body back.