Escape to New Atlantis

18 The Truth, The Whole Truth

Catalina

What a way to spend a Sunday afternoon—staring at "New Atlantis Courtroom: Trial Begins Shortly" on my tablet. This is a "snap trial" for Mr. Fix-It, deciding if he deserves to lose the visa that allows him to be a permanent resident. It's called "banishment." If he's found guilty, by this time tomorrow he'll be in handcuffs on a tiltrotor, heading back to the country he came from.

But, hey, this is New Atlantis. Everything's fast, but nothing's simple. Mr. Fix-It was arrested yesterday, and he's being tried today. Guilty, not guilty... or not-so-fast. You see, it's also possible he'll plead for a full trial. Or the jurors might decide to set this trial aside so he can be tried again later for a more serious charge. Either way, he could face a much harsher punishment than mere banishment. Think of it this way: a snap trial is an automatic "plea deal." The accused can get a quick sentence that's lighter than what they probably deserve, while the state gets to wash its hands of them, saving a ton of grief and money. Or not.

I'll be honest—I still can't see Mr. Fix-It as a criminal. He's been one of my favorite teachers ever since I've been in high school. Today I'd still be in bed with my head covered up if Mother hadn't finally dragged me out. But now I'm here in our family room, glued to the virtual courtroom, just as the message from the Justice Ministry ordered.

My parents are here with their own tablets, because, well, their youngest is being called as a witness. But they'd probably be watching anyway—there are only a few trials each year, so most everyone tunes in. Trials are our blood sport.

Delia's here too, no doubt hoping I'll say something stupid that she can laugh about for the next month. I'm sure I won't disappoint.

The justice minister appears on the screen, wearing a powdered wig and at least the upper part of a black robe. He identifies himself and announces the case to be "The Independent State of New Atlantis versus Norman Ray Finley, on the charge of espionage against the State and BakeThreads LLC." He names the attorneys representing the prosecution and defense, both are staff members of the Justice Ministry, and reminds us that the jurors include "all citizens, sixteen years of age or older, who are currently logged in to this trial and remain so for at least ninety percent of its duration, and who are not recused for having a personal interest in the case." Finally, he directs our attention to the "feedback" area of the screen where any viewer can direct questions and comments to the court, visible to him as well as to the attorneys for both sides. Misuse of the feedback feature will be dealt with seriously, whatever that means.

And we're off! The prosecuting attorney lays out the story I already know too well, then she adds: "You will see hard evidence that Mr. Finley was acting with other persons to breach the communication systems of New Atlantis, by means of both a physical tap and a software hack, with the goal of covertly stealing the design details of the upcoming generation of the BakeThreads garment baking system. The offense was thus against both the State and BakeThreads LLC."

It's the defense attorney's turn next. Maybe I'm too deep into this thing, but their case seems, well, desperate. Basically, if there even was a crime, which is doubtful, Mr. Fix-It wasn't guilty. No credible evidence shows he did it. In fact, the prosecution's case hinges on a hazy picture of a wristwatch taken in near darkness, and that watch, if it even is a watch, could be anybody's. Most certainly it's not Mr. Fix-It's. This poor man, whose character hundreds of people will vouch for, is being framed.

Yeah, I'd be one of those hundreds—except he is guilty. And it breaks my heart.

The justice minister tells the prosecutor to call the first witness. She looks down at her notes, clears her throat, and says, "Catalina Ortiz." I can feel thousands of people across the city stuffing popcorn into their mouths as the first gladiator enters the arena.