My body heals more slowly than Aryl’s, so I have spent more time in the hospital than she did. Pain lingers in my abdomen and limbs, but not to the extent that I need to escape from it into unconsciousness. An autonomous campus security vehicle picks me up and transports me from the hospital to the first-year dorm. Back in my room, I am greeted by Charles, who was bored out of his artificial mind while I was away.
“I’ve been reborn!” he exclaims. “I feel like I was just released from the factory.”
I chuckle. “Aiyo, do not remind me of factories!”
Jaha has rented a cheap hotel room that smells like mold and perspiration. The curtains are drawn, and the one purple LED lamp flickers like a dying mouse’s heartbeat. She has been evicted from her Institute-owned apartment and is staying here until she can find a new one.
She, Ford, Aryl, and I can barely fit together on the floor, especially with Dimmi’s crib set up near the small circular window. Aryl chews nervously on a day-old açai croissant that the hotel’s AI included in our breakfast. No one is talking. We focus on the live holo of the trial.
Trials proceed the same way every time. Evidence for the defendant’s innocence or guilt is presented. The judicial computer cluster, programmed by the government to be “neutral,” processes the evidence. It also accounts for the occupations, criminal histories, and “contributions to society” of the parties involved, then spits out a verdict. A five-member human jury also votes. Most of the time, the jury and the cluster agree. When they do not, more evidence is collected and the process repeats. The cluster decides the punishment based on everything it knows about the guilty party; likelihood of committing another crime, lost productivity, and family members are three major factors.
We have already seen the recorded testimony from Jaha, Devon, Ver, and me, as well as from several of Yuan’s associates. In my statement, I alluded to Cal’s and my research—to the possibility that spending time on G-Moon One may mitigate the symptoms of RCD. Judging by the news coverage and Neb chatter on my flexitab feed, this has made an impression on the public.
While we wait for the trial’s results, we watch Yuan fidgeting inside a balloon-shaped holding pod at the police station. Hulking Osmio is at his side. Krick Kepler sits across from them. I touch the brace over my ribcage, remembering the devastating punches the bodyguard threw.
A banner slides across the bottom of the projection: Detective Roderick Xenon retires with distinction from LCPD. So that is his only punishment for taking a bribe. How ridiculous!
Osmio’s verdict comes first. For assault, the computer delivers a guilty verdict, and the humans vote four to one in agreement. The computer promptly calculates Osmio’s sentence: six years in prison.
I blink. To my disbelief, the number does not change.
Comprehension washes over me like a freezing ice bath. Six years is much shorter than I expected. My ribs might never be the same.
Kricket’s face appears next. The computer calculates: guilty, and four of the five human jurors concur. The computer gives him three years in prison. And not the Sandbag—the Lucent City jail.
My eyes go wide, unblinking. There is a crick click as Aryl cracks her knuckles.
Three years, with parole after one. Kricket likely expected to lose his entire youth to a penal colony, but now he will have many years left after he is out. Decades to become something, still.
Finally, it is Yuan’s turn. I stop fuming long enough to listen to the crimes he is accused of: manslaughter, accessory to manslaughter, invasion of privacy, bribery. I blink. Why has he not been charged with murder?
The human jury votes three-to-two: Yuan is guilty of . . . accessory to manslaughter? The computer cluster renders the same verdict. My stomach churns.
The cluster takes the next 6.7 seconds to decide on a sentence.
When I see the numbers flash in front of us, they take a moment to sink in.
I press my still-healing hands together and feel tears leave my eyes.
Five years in Lucent City Prison. Possibility of retrial and release after two years.
Case closed.