“Again.”
Brian sauntered through the Judgment Gate, tired, hungry, and without rest for the fourth day in a row.
“No result. Again.”
Brian eyed the AR-15 rifle of the naval marine as he made his way around the track that the bailiffs had set up for him. The track was not dissimilar to the athletic track at your average high school, albeit, a miniature version with only a single lane and entirely contained the small box of a room that operated as Brian’s home for the duration of his detainment. In place of the finish line, of course, was the Judgement Gate. Looking at the gate, a person would assume it was nothing more than a metal detector, much like the ones at an airport security station; a cool metallic doorframe with two lights planted on top, one red and one green.
Typically, judgements were instantaneous. This was a boon for the judiciary. After the discovery of the Judgement Gate, it wasn’t long before congress ruled the courts obsolete. Criminal suspects were lined up en masse and marched through the gate, one at a time. Red light - proceed to the judge to receive your sentence. Green light – collect your belongings, have your paperwork stamped, and go home. Courthouses no longer conducted trials, but merely operated as a criminal processing plant. Now, typically, judgements were instantaneous. Unfortunately, this was not the case for Brian.
“I’ve already confessed at least a dozen times. Just send me to sentencing… Please.”
The marine, stone faced, continued to watch Brian make his laps around the track. The bailiff, on the other hand, found Brian’s plight to be most amusing.
“Kid,” a snide bark that was more Bronx accent than speech hit Brian, “what’d you do?” It was one of the younger bailiffs, who despite referring to Brian as ‘kid,’ was surely no more than a year or two older than him.
“I stole. I told you already, I stole.”
“Oh yeah? What’d ya shteel?”
Brian sighed in frustration as he continued his perpetual trek around the room.
“Skittles…”
The bailiff cackled in delight, “what else?”
Brian pursed his lips and tucked his tongue into the corner of his mouth as he tried to contain his temper.
“WELL, let’s hear it! What else?!”
“A CD… Music…”
A shit eating grin slowly drew itself across the bailiff’s face, “Music?... Who steals music from a store anymore? Why dontcha just download it like a normal person? What CD was it?”
Brian had been taunted by this bailiff since his arrival at the courthouse, and if it wasn’t for the AR-15 cradled in the tree-trunk arms of that marine, then surely Brian would have also been charged with assault by now.
“Nickelback.”
The bailiff howled in amusement at this response; he could not have requested a better answer, “so let me get this straight, kid. You’s been walking around in circles for five days now because ya took some candy and a Nickelback CD? Damn, no one would lie about that unless they really did it!”
“Kenney, shut the fuck up.” One of the senior officers entered the room. He was tall, easily towering over the marine who guarded the door, although he was not a thick bulging mass of muscle like the marine was. In fact, he was quite gaunt, as if he was once a regular sized man who was stretched apart, like taffy.
“Brian, can you come with me? Judge Hersch has requested to see you.”
Brian’s heart swelled with hope, “Am I getting my sentence?”
“We need to talk with you.”
I must be off to class! I may come back and finish this later tonight.