I shrug. “Guys, give me at least one break. Something, please. I don’t even know what that means. I’ve lived in the Tower my whole life and never heard whatever that weirdo language is that you’re speaking.”
The judge stares at me and nods. “Your ignorance betrays your ignorance. To translate, those words mean that ‘ignorance of the law excuses no one.’ You know the essential rules of the Tower. Nobody speaks of Angels. Nobody comes to Floor 1 without invitation. Nobody is allowed to think of resisting the Authority in any concerted effort. Behaviors such as these threaten the stability of the Tower.”
“Yeah, I get that, but even if I haven’t ever been to a trial, I’ve at least seen some movies. Plus, if you’re not going to tell me the rules about how to do this trial thing, then you’re going to just have to put up with some of my ‘ignorance.’ I mean, is it ignorant to ask whether or not you can even prove I did anything?”
Reaver seems to be getting a real kick out of watching me squirm, and that jerkface smile of his really bothers me as he says, “That is why we first ask you to plea. Yea guilty, or nay not guilty. There can be no presentation of evidence if you have not yet put in your plea. As for being ignorant of the process of our trials, well, I will guide you.”
“Oh, well, that’s real comforting. So, I’m supposed to plead yea guilty or nay not guilty?” Duh. What else am I going to plea? “Nay not guilty, for reasons.”
“So be it. The plea has been entered into our records; may they stand until Tower’s end. Prosecutor Davis, if you please.”
Another man steps up from out of the seated group. He’s definitely younger, but, still, around his late forties. I notice for the first time something funny about these guys. The judge is the only person here wearing what you could call “normal” clothes. It’s a suit, like the kind that even we have on my floor. The material’s just a lot fancier. This guy, though, Prosecutor Davis, he’s wearing this, I dunno, bodysuit. It fits him really close to his skin. You’d be able to see every outline if not for the fact that he has a kinda jacket over his chest, but everything he’s wearing looks like it’s made out of plastic or something. At least the judge’s clothes look like, you know, they’re made out of cotton. So, for the first time since I came to Floor 1, I put something together in my head. I’ve seen something similar to these outfits before.
You know. Back on Floor 8. The Angel.
I shake it out of my head. If there’s something I don’t want to think about right now, it’s that. I’ve got to focus. It’s my neck here, you know, so I really can’t afford to be distracted. Anyway, Prosecutor Davis walks over to the wall by the judge and taps at it. A screen pops to life… but where did it come from? It’s like an image just starts showing on the wall. There’s no television or anything required.
“Your honor,” Davis says, “earlier today, this video was taken from the interior of the junction ventilation shaft leading from Floor 2 onto Floor 1.”
I’m watching this with them, obviously. I think they must have used some sort of robotic camera, but, whatever. This view comes to a stop by a ledge, then extends and leans over the side. It’s staring down the shaft and right onto that fan blade I busted. In my head I’m laughing because I knew that thing would cause me trouble.
The judge turns to me, and he’s a stone-cold statue. Guess I prefer that to angry. “What say you to this?” he asks.
“Pretty much that anyone could have done that.”
“Hm. I agree.” He turns to the lawyer. “Prosecutor Davis, do you have anything more concrete that could identify this young woman as the person responsible for breaking the fan blade?”
“Of course, Your Honor,” he says as he taps at the wall again. Now there’s a camera looking down the hall on Floor 4. I recognize what we’re looking at, and it’s not great. “As you can see, less than a minute into this video, the young woman enters this Cleanup closet on hallway 4-5. This is in the early morning.” He taps the corner of the screen, and the video starts running. There’s also a timer in the upper right. As the seconds tick by, yeah, you see me heading down the hall. Because I did. My smirk is obvious because it’s funny seeing myself knocking at the door of the closet. I wait for an answer, but I’m also looking all around to see if Security’s coming. When nobody does, I disappear inside. “The accused proceeded to enter the closet shortly before Reception. She would not leave that closet until close to evening.” The video seems to fly by, and when it resumes, it’s of me coming out. I look like a hot mess, just doused in sweat. The video pauses as I get close to the camera, and you can see my clothes are pretty much sticking like hot glue to me. “As the court can see, she entered the closet and was gone for several hours. During that time the destruction of the fan near Floor 1 occurred. Before the accused was taken into custody, Security investigated the closet in question, only to find that a ventilation access had been tampered with.”
The judge nods to all this, like he approves. I’m still confused because I can’t figure out if he’s on my side or not. “Damning evidence indeed, Prosecutor Davis. Accused, do you have any response to this?”
I shake my head. “So, I’m not really sure what response you want me to give. I mean, you’ve got video of me going into a closet. Great. But, uh, where’s the proof I broke the fan? I mean, maybe I’m not the only one running through those vents. Ever thought of that? Maybe there’s, like, a whole society of vent crawlers going up and down the Tower. Think it might be a good idea to look into that first? Because all I’m saying is that even if I did go in the vents, that doesn’t mean anything. You can’t actually prove that it was me, and maybe you should check some of the other floors to see who else was breaking in through the Cleanup closets.” As I’m saying all this, I patently recognize that my argument isn’t what you would call revolutionary, but hey, I’m just trying to buy myself some time here.
Still, at least the judge kinda seems to agree. He nods and turns to the prosecutor. “Can we know for sure that there aren’t others also prowling through the vents?”
“No, Your Honor,” he says.
“So, she may or may not have been the person that made their way onto Floor 1?”
“With all due respect, she is our most likely suspect.”
“Still, likeliness doesn’t necessarily mean guilt, does it?”
At this point I’m thinking, hey, maybe I was wrong. This dude’s not so bad. He’s no monster. He’s actually kinda, you know, defending me.
Prosecutor Davis turns away for a second as he says, “The evidence, at this point, leans heavily against her. We have yet to find any other ventilation grates that were removed in this fashion.”
“Prosecutor, what’s the current population of the Tower?”
Now the judge has this guy squirming, and Davis pulls at his collar a little. “Well, Your Honor, I don’t know off the top of my head. I believe the last estimate was that we have roughly 15,000 people living on the upper and lower levels combined, and only because so much of the Tower has been converted to living space.”
“I see. So, despite the sheer size of the Tower and the number of people living here, we know for a fact that the accused was the only person that was active in the vents on the day in question?”
Now Davis backs off as his face lights up like a cherry. “No, Your Honor. As I said, though, she is the most likely suspect.”
“You may say so. I will be the final judge of that.” He grunts, turning in his chair slightly. “Do you have anything else to present?”