MS. BELL: [To the jury.] The defense wants you to believe these are isolated, random incidences. The park wants you to believe the simplest explanation is the right one. Mechanical error. Technological failure.
But what about their own failure to do the right thing? To end a program that’s not only inhumane, but deeply problematic in its practice. A program that has proven, one “incident” at a time, that something very dangerous is going on inside the Kingdom’s gates. A change, spreading among the hybrids like a disease. An evolution. And Ana is the very culmination of that evolution—showing us just how little control the park truly has over its creations. In the end, we’re not asking you to buy into some make-believe story we’re selling, as they are. We are simply asking you to look at the facts.
Fact one. Hybrids can feel. We know it. We understand it. The polar bear. Even Ana. Each of whom lashed out in violence following years of unimaginable cruelty and abuse.
Fact two. During the park’s study, Ana developed obsessive romantic feelings toward Owen Chen.
Fact three. She believed—she hoped—Owen would help her escape, as he promised he would.
Fact four. He lied to her. He betrayed her trust. He broke her heart.
Fact five. She became angry. Enraged. And, with the very knife she had stolen from him—a knife she kept hidden over many weeks—Ana plotted her revenge. She saw the line of morality. She understood it. And she made the conscious choice to cross it.
Ladies and gentlemen, Ana is a living, breathing, moral agent who should be held accountable for her actions, just as Kingdom Corp. should be held accountable for theirs. And so, I ask you—for Owen, for Nia, and for Ana—it is time to do the right thing. The Kingdom must end their Fantasist Program. Forever.
Thank you.
[Courtroom falls utterly silent.]
THE COURT: Mr. Hayes? Do you have a rebuttal?
MR. HAYES: I do, Your Honor.
[Stands. Makes his way to center of room.]
Technology. Fantasy. Entertainment. Have we forgotten everything the Kingdom stands for? Have we forgotten what they have done for generations—what they continue to do to this day—better than anyone else in the world? Have we forgotten the beauty? The magic? The grandeur? The cutting-edge science that has changed the world and the way we interact with it, for the better? The joy, the fun, the curiosity their creations have inspired for young and old alike? Have we forgotten how we felt when we witnessed the birth of a white rhino, the first of its kind in a century? Have we forgotten the thrill and the exhilaration we felt seeing a baby Compsognathus hatch—a dinosaur, for God’s sake—a species humans would otherwise never have encountered, not in a hundred million years?
The truth is, the Kingdom has always been the first and the best in their field. Trailblazers the other parks can only dream of imitating. Is it so far-fetched to think maybe, just maybe, the technology they helmed to create our beloved Fantasists is simply so good—so lifelike—that it has fooled us into thinking these girls are actually human? But they aren’t, don’t you see? Fooling us was always the point.
And so, I must paint a different picture. A picture of a girl, programmed to maintain certain behavioral parameters. A girl programmed to interact—to connect—all so that we might feel a little less alone in this great big universe of ours. Connection, of course, is what has allowed our species to thrive. To procreate. To survive. But Fantasists do not connect with us to ensure their own survival—they connect to serve. To entertain. And, until the precise moment of their mechanical malfunctions, Ana, Eve, and Pania were behaving exactly according to program.
Human beings are not infallible, and neither is our technology. Mistakes happen. Errors occur. Rides break down. And if we were fooled by the Kingdom’s illusions, well … it was because we wanted to be. Thank you.