| |
––––––––
“WELCOME TO THE IOTA Nine Judicial System. Please prick your finger and smear your DNA on the swearing-in tablet for identification.”
An old-fashioned blood smear instead of transdermal processing of her DNA. They were ensuring there were no questions about legalities of identities or legal impairment.
The tablet had a small well on the bottom. She placed her pinkie finger in it and closed her eyes, waiting for the prick. It was swift and sharp, not causing as much pain as she expected. She smeared her blood over the signature line and took a tissue from the top of the stand to wrap around her finger.
“DNA tag includes the name Leilani Vivienne Margulies and alias Ciregna. Goes by the shortened name Leah. Under the influence of B vitamins and medically prescribed Systalize, a sleeping agent. Blood levels indicate positive to testify.”
Huh. She wasn’t aware there were B vitamins in her sleeping pills. It seemed a bit counterintuitive, but Amanda knew better than she did.
After swearing in, all the lights shut down in the small room and a small hovering ball, with a laser where the camera lens should be, glowed. It floated to eye level with her, and a voice boomed from a speaker.
“Leah Margulies. Do you hereby testify of your own free will?”
“I do.”
“Ms. Margulies, please let the court know of your relationship to the accused, Brock Leonard Ciregna.”
“Brock Ciregna is now my ex-husband.”
“And your relationship at the time of the charge?”
“He was my husband.”
By the time the trial was nearly over, Leah was exhausted. It may have been the talk of the century, but she’d learned so much herself during the times she and Trance were excused when she wasn’t needed. In the designated break areas, they were able to access news feeds which showed live public opinions. There was no longer any mystery about how the wealthy were able to get richer off the death of a poor, unsuspecting spouse. Leah also discovered that her popularity as a chef with her talk shows and other venues had never gone down. Her fan base had been excited to hear from her again, even though it was something so awful as her ex-husband’s trial for her attempted murder. Now it was known that Brock had purposely sent her to work at Xenia because the money was excellent, it got her out of the public eye, and it would have been an easy way to explain her death—possibly even blame the Xeno Sapiens.
The lights in the room dimmed, signaling she and her bodyguard were to return to the courtroom. The room was silent and dark when she entered, only her booth lit. She returned to it and Trance sat in the seat next to her. Even though the cameras couldn’t see him, it helped to know he was nearby.
The hovering ball rose to make an announcement.
“The final matter before the verdict is decided is the victim closure act. Some alleged victims choose to speak to the alleged accusers. You are given a five-minute episode in which to communicate with each other. This is a controversial step and several rules have been placed to facilitate a smoother operation. During such episodes, should you choose this route, be advised that every word on both ends is televised. There are speakers and microphones in both booths. In order to keep a person from talking over another and running the clock, microphones will be turned off from one end. However, sound in the room is still heard and recorded in order to record behavior of the accused. You will speak when your light signals your microphone is on. Do you have any questions, Leah Margulies?”
“Yes.” Her voice was surprisingly clear. “What if he refuses to cooperate?”
“Both parties sit in electric wired chairs. Should a party consistently take longer than five seconds to answer, shocks will spur the talking. Consistency is equal to three chances.”
“I understand. Will we view each other?”
“That is victim’s choice. You may choose to view the alleged accuser. You may choose to keep your room blocked from his view. How do you prefer televisement?”
“I wish for full viewing on both ends.”
“Then you may speak. Please think about how you wish to begin and wait for your light to signal the microphone. You have ten seconds.”
The ball returned to its docking station, the glow of the camera shutting down. Inside her booth, the lights came on, dimly enough to not shock her with sudden light. A bigger shock was seeing Brock’s booth lit with the same glow. She wasn’t sure if he was actually here or if he was some sort of hologram image carried from another location, but it was eerie enough to freeze her for a few moments.
When her light turned on, it was a cool bluish shade.
“Brock Ciregna, I have testified about the horrors I endured during my marriage. The stalking, the journals you kept, the beatings, the discovery of the life insurance policy. The murder of my parents was even pointed out, although you were never tried or convicted. If you are found guilty of all the charges you’ve been accused of, you’ll spend your life in prison. It’ll be a shorter life sentence because the severity of your actions determine the difficulty of your prison and I’m guessing you’ll be sent somewhere rough enough that your body should wear down quickly. Even at that—which I feel is completely justified—I would like to go on record to say I will file charges for the death of my parents. Their voices deserve to be heard.”
As she stopped speaking, her light stayed lit for about three seconds and then turned out. Next to the light button, a red one came on. The number display counted down from five seconds.
He waited nearly the full five seconds to answer and then smiled mockingly, as if he’d done it on purpose.
“You are welcome to bring any charges you wish. As you said, my life span would be shortened anyway, so what’s one more charge against me? Other than you wasting taxpayer dollars, that is.”
Bastard. Still manipulating her, even now. Knowing that in her people-serving business, she couldn’t stand the thought of unnecessary waste, especially when it was someone else’s dime. But what he didn’t know was that her goal for the purpose of the victim voice program wasn’t to air out her dirty laundry. It was to allow the public—and any future victims in her predicament—to become aware of his actions.
Her light came on and began the countdown from five. She took her time.
“I wish to know why you attacked a woman in the homeless camps of Xenia. I know it is because you thought she was me. But I wish to know why you chose that moment to do so.”
Her light turned off after she stopped speaking and his lit.
“Because I knew I couldn’t get to you while you worked in that damned city. When I saw the underground newsfeeds, I realized that the information leaked is usually leaked to bring awareness and acceptance to those aliens. So I began watching them. Sure enough, I learned that Leah Margulies, once the famous chef from Iota Nine, had volunteered to test the cabins created to replace the tents before winter. You always were such a do-gooder. But only you and I knew in this instance, you needed a place to live.”
His light turned off.
“Do you have any remorse for injuring an innocent woman? The one you mistook for me? Amy Milner?”
His face was incredulous. “Why should I? What the fuck did she think would happen when some strange woman gives her an expensive silk kimono? The quality is right there for everyone to see, even the poor and stupid liberals who became homeless because they chose to stick their nose in someone else’s business. No one asked them to march the borders of the wall to bring awareness to the alien monsters. I’m glad the rest of the world burned down their homes. That’ll teach them to mind their own damn business, just like that woman should have minded her business. What the hell was she thinking she was going to do with an expensive kimono while roughing it in a dusty tent? She deserved to have some sense knocked into her.”
Now it was time to allow his true personality to shine.
“But I thought it was a woman’s duty to look good for her husband?” He’d told her that countless times when he avoided hitting her face.
“Are you being cute?” His voice sounded dangerously deceptive. A shiver ran down her spine even though she knew there was no way he could get to her. “If more men knew how to treat women, we wouldn’t have some of you growing so uppity you think you’re untouchable. But even you, a star in some people’s eyes, were taught otherwise, weren’t you, wife?” he sneered. “The only reason why you can even vocalize these questions for me today is because you have a fucking bodyguard next to you? Like that keeps you safe?” He laughed like he knew something she didn’t.
He had to be bluffing. He was locked tight and there was no way he could win a verdict to set him free. She smiled easily, waiting for his light to go out so she could speak. “I’ve been safe within the gates of Xenia, Brock. The Xeno Sapiens provided a bodyguard for me to visit the outside. I am safe. You can’t touch me any longer. Not mentally. Not physically. Not emotionally.”
Anger twisted his handsome features, making his eyes appear beady. He flushed an unbecoming mottled red instead of the adorable purple she was used to.
“You fucking high-falutin’ bitch. There’s one lesson I taught you, over and over. Beginning with the one where I burned down your parents’ home.” He waited for the shock over his words to hit—knowing he couldn’t be charged in this court even with his confession because he wasn’t on trial for it—but she refused to give him the satisfaction. It angered him even more, so he stretched out his words, determined to scare her. “I own you, wife. If I can’t have you, no one will.”
Their five minutes was almost up. She waited a bit while her end of the time clicked. Five. Four. Three. Two. One.
She leaned in and then cocked her head to the left, letting her eyes roam over Trance. The cameras cut to see her gorgeous, sexy bodyguard she was looking at. “Oh, but someone already has.”
Fury erupted over his face and what she assumed was a slew of curses spat from his mouth. But time had run out on the connection, so the sound was muted and no one could hear a thing. He continued his tantrum, and then his arms and legs jerked as the chair shocked him into submission. He stopped his tirade, staring with wide eyes into the camera. For the first time, he showed real fear over his circumstances instead of the cocky attitude that had proven money could beat all.
The light faded out in his booth.
The hovering ball lifted and the speaker boomed. “The verdict will be released to the public in three hours. You are welcome to stay. If you do not choose to avail yourself of that option, you may slip out the witness elevator. Access has been keyed for the roof. An unmarked shuttle is in place and will take you anywhere you wish to go.”
The lights of the roving, ball-like apparatus clicked out without waiting for her response. She realized it was best to keep her decision to stay or leave anonymous. Not even Robyn would be able to hack into the records to find out if they were returning because no one would know.
She stepped from the witness booth and headed straight to Trance. He pulled her into his embrace, her head falling onto his chest.
“Are you okay?”
“I think so.”
“You did great. I was so proud of you. Do they provide a waiting room that’s more comfortable?”
“Probably. All the lighted areas in the hall signal areas we, as the witnesses, can travel to. But we can also leave. There’s a shuttle on the roof that will take us anywhere. I don’t see any difference in hearing the verdict here or over the newsfeeds with the rest of the world.”
“Are you sure?” He looked at her quizzically.
“Yes, I’m sure. I want to go home.”
“Yours or mine?”
Good grief, she’d forgotten she moved out. “Yours,” she whispered.
He smiled at her. “Ours. I’ll call the front desk of the hotel and ask them to bring our bags to the roof. We’ll pick them up on the way home.”
The verdict came in while they were shuttling home. Guilty. A life sentence in one of the harshest mining facilities—on the planet Mars. After creating the floating cities, the Global Government was intent on adapting Mars to become a livable planet. His life expectancy was seven years with a good disposition. Less if he wasn’t able to adapt to his surroundings.
Leah had a feeling seven years was aiming high.
