“As my special undercover report continues tomorrow night, I’ll take you behind the walls of the Hall of Justice for a disturbing probe into these recent riots and block wars. Coincidence or deliberate provocation? That’s tomorrow with Vardis Hammond…”
Dredd glared at the screen. “What the hell do you know?” he said aloud. “You want to see a disturbing probe? Give me a call, I’ll show you a disturbing probe, pal!”
NINE
THE SETTING:
With a scarcely-perceptible sigh, a massive stone eagle and shield rise up from the floor of the Council Chamber. This symbol of Mega-City Justice was carved from a single slab of black marble thirty-seven meters high and twenty-eight meters wide. Its weight and dimensions were calculated to a fine tolerance by the architects to achieve the perfect spatial ratio of the Chamber itself.
Seconds after the great stone is in place, a table of carved ebony, a wood now worth its weight in gold, rises up before the high symbol. There are five chairs behind the table. On the high, ornate backrest of each chair is a carved replica of the eagle and shield, and below each emblem is the name of the High Judge who is privileged to sit on the Council.
On the wall opposite the Judges, a large holo flickers into life. The holo is a map of New North America.
There are three pulsing blue stars on the map: Mega-City One, which rests on the twentieth century foundations of New York City; Mega-City Two, a massive extension of the old city of Los Angeles, and Mega-City Three, Tex-City, which was once called Houston. All else on this map is a dull and coppery hue, the color of the sun-baked ground, the color of the land of Cursed Earth, the no-color of Death.
Finally, the members of the High Council file into the Chamber and take their places. Their uniforms are black, with scarcely any hint of their rank. They do not wear the traditional helmet of the Judges when the High Council is in session. Here, their heads are bare, their faces open to one another.
[Judge Griffin rises slowly from his chair. He is a man of sixty years, with silver hair and eyes the color of Arctic ice. Still, he is a solid, broad-shouldered man with the strength and passions of a man half his age. When he stands, he presses strong fingers against the black surface of the table and addresses his fellow Judges…]
JUDGE GRIFFIN
My fellow Judges, can it be true that we have forgotten the lessons of History? Can we not see that establishing a system of Justice is not enough—that we must constantly maintain that system with whatever action, whatever force becomes necessary?
It is quite clear that these block wars that erupt across the city are becoming an epidemic—an epidemic that must be dealt with immediately. The measures we are taking now can only contain this sickness that threatens our Society. Containment is not the answer. The only solution to our problem is a tougher Criminal Code—a code designed to show this filth they cannot run amok in Mega-City!
JUDGE SILVER
[Stands, and enthusiastically pounds the table.]
The situation gets worse every day—seventy-three Citizen riots in two months in, what? Sixteen different sectors.
JUDGE McGRUDER
Violent crime is rising fifteen percent every quarter. If we don’t increase our resources they will be inadequate in under three years.
JUDGE ESPOSITO
Three years? They are totally inadequate now!
[The Council is in an uproar. A gavel strikes the table, a sound that echoes like thunder off the high Chamber walls. Chief Justice Fargo rises from his chair. While Judge Griffin never fails to stir the Council, it is Fargo, with his dignity and iron will who brings instant silence to the room.]
JUDGE FARGO
My friends, my fellow Council members… As a city, we continue to grow. And growth is painful. Over fifty million people live in an area that was originally built for under twenty. It is not enough that they rely on us for clothing, food, water, and clean air…
[Judge Griffin comes to his feet. He spreads his hands in exasperation.]
JUDGE GRIFFIN
Chief Justice, with all due respect, this city is in chaos! Grand oratory—even yours—can’t help us now. Maintaining the social order calls for tighter reins. My curfew proposal should be implemented immediately!
[Chief Justice Fargo turns to Griffin.]
JUDGE FARGO
Treat men like animals and they will act like them, sir.
JUDGE GRIFFIN
Perhaps you’d prefer we strip the Judges of their current powers and return to the antiquated system of trial and jury? No, I am certain you do not. But I tell you this, Judge: Incarceration has not worked as a deterrent. It did not work in the past and it does not work now. We can lock them up by the thousands and there will still be enough of them out there to destroy us all. There is only one answer: We must expand execution to include lesser crimes!
[Judge Fargo cannot see the faces of his fellow Judges, but he knows them all too well. He knows that there is enough truth in Griffin’s words to sway them.]
JUDGE FARGO
This body is not the first assembly to think that more laws and fewer choices will bring peace and order. That delusion has been tried and has failed before. I was hardly in my teens when I put on this badge. When the time comes for me to take it off… let me do it knowing that it stood for freedom… and not for repression.
[Chief Justice Fargo takes his seat. The room is silent. It is clear that his words have hit home, that the awe and respect that elevated him to his position have once more turned the tide in his favor. No one is more aware of this than Judge Griffin himself.]
JUDGE GRIFFIN
Once more, sir, you have served as a moral compass for us all. I… I wish to withdraw my proposal. I hope my action is one for the good.
JUDGE FARGO
Thank you, my friend. Your strength and wisdom are always an asset to this table. Now… let us all work together to continue the task we have sworn to perform, to protect and serve the citizens of Mega-City…
[The Judges file out of the room. The lights in the Chamber dim.]
CURTAIN
TEN
It was the first winter storm of the season and the worst in twenty-three years. It began as a silent snowfall, a thickening curtain of white that masked the dark peaks, the grim and barren plains. For half a day, this small section of Cursed Earth looked like an ancient Christmas card. Then, the blizzard struck in full force, bringing howling winds and numbing cold.
The guard towers of Aspen Prison rose like skeletal fingers behind the white veil. A chill wind moaned through the razor wire atop the granite walls. And, though there were thousands of men behind these dark battlements, not a single light was visible through the storm. Anyone who has ever been to this tomb of the living knows it is a place of darkness, not a place of light. If the Cursed Earth is Hell, then Aspen Prison is the stairway that leads to the underworld below…
They made their way down the narrow maze of granite stairs, their shadows bent and warped, dark and misshapen on the cold stone walls. The public was familiar with Aspen Prison from the countless videos, grim and deliberate reminders of the fate of those who broke the Law. This was a part of that prison they had never seen, and never would—unless they became one of the two hundred nine incarcerated here, the elite, the monsters, the terrors, the men who had committed such unspeakable crimes they were sentenced to live instead of die. The Judges had decreed that every effort would be made to keep these men alive, that they could never deserve the merciful release of execution.