part i A record num...

part i

A record number of criminal cases arose, and I had to report for jury duty in the chaos of it all. All citizens had to report because of the severity of the Protectorate's situation. I was given no exception despite my occupation. "I'll continue searching for an answer while you are away," Emmanuel assured me. "Looks like this could be serious," I offered a kiss goodbye. Emmanuel accepted with a cheek.

My number was called. "Juror 718," the woman said. "Please take seat number one." I sat down. "Do you know the plaintiff or defendant?" the lord asked. "No, I do not," I lied.

Yesterday, I bumped into the defendant. He fought with me over the last oxygen canister at the local. "Stupid shit. That's mine," he pried it from my hands. Luckily, he did not recognize me today. We all look the same to him.

The defendant was charged with domestic violence. His partner was visibly battered and bruised when they took the stand. Needless to say, I did not have to sway the decision, but it was good karma to, at the least, hear the guilty verdict and see his face after sentencing. "Violence is not tolerated in the Protectorate, and the jury has decided beyond a reasonable doubt that you are guilty and have committed the crime of domestic violence. You are sentenced to a pod," the lord said.

No one wants to be placed in a pod. The life sucked out of you for mining coin. He was dragged out of the court as he became belligerent. "Remove this man!" the lord shouted. Emmanuel was right. Everything happens for a reason, and everything that goes around comes around. "Don't send me back!" he screamed in terror. "We don't know what's back there!" He was begging, pleading, crying to no avail.

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