The Ruling Impulses
Page 5
The trip to the new home was almost surrealistic. They managed to make him feel guilty about something and he didn't know what it was. Scarlet Militia had often proved it could use psychological torture very effectively. William had a further confirmation that morning, noticing that the transport vehicles chosen to transfer citizens to their new flats were the same as those used to ferry criminals. A strategy of terror that was also expressed - and maybe especially - in the attention to detail.
He wasn't the only lucky one, however, to get a free ride that morning, two other traveling companions joined him shortly thereafter. He met their eyes, trying to get some more information, but none of them was willing to speak a single word.
Once arrived at his destination, he had to face another grotesque situation. Another unnamed militiaman - as none of them wasted time introducing himself – was already waiting for him, to deliver his new apartment, an attic on the top floor of a brand new building. Before allowing him access, the militiaman took care to subject him to a body search and recommended him to go straight, listing one by one all the penalties for misuse of property.
The apartment was small and it had just the essentials, so William would never imagine he could get attached to it. A card was needed to get access to the house, as well as it was necessary to perform a fingerprint scan. William thought of playing a trick and trying to get in and out a dozen times in a few minutes, just to see what could happen, but fortunately he dismissed the bizarre and risky idea in the blink of an eye. He examined the place and realized he was lucky not to have a family yet, otherwise some member would have slept in the toilet. It all looked sterile, not much furnished. No windows, other than a top large window, onto which the external lighting projected in the evening. Slowly and unexpectedly, it became his unwitting companion on many lonely nights.
Along the path that separated him from Scarlet Militia Downtown Headquarters, William thought of doing a last revision of what he would have to state. Knowing them, they would try to embarrass him, to catch him in a lie, and he certainly could not one hundred percent rule out any honest mistake. Someone inside the social carrier was laughing and such hilarity irritated him, he just wanted to stay quiet and focused and do everything he could to stop the chills down his spine. He started to peer out the window in search of something to keep his mind busy, but the images flowed like black and white frames, devoid of life.
The buzzer found him deep in his thoughts. He moved slowly, held back by what he would have commonly defined as panic, yet in those circumstances he chose to consider as caution, lying to himself. Suddenly he had a flash of an alternate future, he saw himself fleeing to hide and abandon that city and life. It lasted just a moment, then a screaming voice brought him back to reality.
«Watch your step, fool!»
The driver of a vehicle was about to cut him off, but luckily he managed to stop in time. William sprinted and a few steps later reached the polished marble staircase that led to the entrance of the Headquarters.
Some militiamen outside saw him and visually inspected him, but he did not stop and kept watching his steps as he was advised a few seconds earlier.
«How can we help you?», one of them asked, with boldness and eyes that sparkled with curiosity. The same curiosity that would accompany an entomologist in the study of a rare insect.
«Hello. I was summoned for an interview», William sketched, trying to be as evasive as possible.
«An interview?»
The look the militiaman gave his colleagues didn't bode well.
«Clark, do you know anything about convening good citizens for interviews? Are we recruiting new personnel and I didn't know anything?»
His companion laughed like hell.
«Dear citizen, I regret to tell you that you must be in the wrong place, because we do not do interviews.»
He smiled, showing his white teeth like a wild beast would do, with the aim of humiliating William.
«I was summoned...», he repeated, not knowing what else to say.
«Yes, you were summoned, it's quite clear. Now, instead of continuing to whine, why don't you tell the truth and say you've been accused and you're here to face charges?»
William naively looked at the other militiamen to seek some support, then preferred to shut up. He felt his heart beating faster. It was obvious that they were trying to provoke him in order to exercise their authority and have the excuse to inflict the daily dose of gratuitous violence. They were disappointed as William, with great aplomb, turned and went on. It was a long shot but it was successful, as the militiamen seemed to get tired soon of their new toy and allowed him to end that farce without consequences. After four or five steps, William heard a militiaman mockingly wishing him a lot of fun.
Militia headquarters was a confused jumble of fundamentalism, intolerance and indolence. The lack of will to work of many of its members was in profound contradiction with the strict respect of the rules imposed on citizens. Not a day went by that a lot of honest or dishonest citizens were not invited, or brought there by force, to report on facts and events or to face any kind of charges.
William's discomfort increased as the minutes passed. He thought that the anxiety of waiting for bad news was perhaps worse than getting the bad news itself. He sat on a cold and very uncomfortable bench. An eerie silence accompanied the passing of time, occasionally broken by muffled sounds in the distance, some shapeless voices that sometimes got louder and closer.
From his seat, turning his gaze to the left, William noticed a long, unlighted corridor. In its middle section, near the ceiling, there was an orange light that occasionally lit up, accompanied by a sound similar to a electrical discharge. It did not sound at regular intervals, so William could not understand what it was for. After a while it started to get on his nerves and he'd like to smash it.
He yawned for a long time, then he got up and stretched his muscles a little, but just for a few seconds: if anyone saw him standing, he could think he was wandering around the Headquarters' corridors. Really a bad idea.
An almost ghostly voice scared him to death.
«Deveux, are you still out there waiting? How long does it take to get in?»
He was taken by surprise and stood up right away, then he took the corridor he had been looking at a little earlier and followed the voice in the dark. He tried to move with confidence and without haste so as not to show he was intimidated; it would be a sign of weakness. Here we go, he thought, almost groping his way through that gloomy corridor. At the entrance of the designated office, another militiaman with easy smiles blocked him.
«Halt! What about checking that everything is in order?», the officer hypocritically asked him, as if William had a choice. He and another began to touch him everywhere; once they had enough, they let him in. If there was any doubts, William confirmed that that would be a very long day. One of the harassers then signaled him to go on and sit down before the officer in charge of the interrogation.
«So Deveux, the charges against you are very clear and I shall not repeat them. Besides, I take it for granted that you perfectly know the contents of the file we sent you. It is so, right? Right?»
The officer wanted a prompt answer so he hurried William without caring about good manners, and leaving little room for him to think about what to reply.
«I guess I should answer yes.»
«Perfect, just like I thought», Patrick Rea cut it short, still showing great hurry, like someone who had to rush to defecate.
«It shall be recorded that Deveux William agrees with the content of the charges against him», he stated, turning to another guy on the sidelines who was typing on a large graphic tablet, pointing him with his right forefinger.
William's eyes widened.
«Wait a minute, I'm not confirming anything, I'm just saying I read the file you sent me, nothing else.»
«So you're not confirming? Really? Too bad, I was offering you a great opportunity to do the right thing.»
«And limit the damage», Rea added. «Potential damage to our Institute, of course. We find ourselves in these situations too many times. Disturbed persons, thieves, criminals. Not everyone is easy to recognize, you know? A lot of rogues look like decent citizens, just like...»
He was about to say just like you, but stopped. Patrick Rea sighed and surrendered to the idea that it would not be so quick as he hoped. The metalball match between Comrades and Avengers was at risk. He bit his lip.
«Well... in my position, I feel obliged to have to renew the offer. Take a few minutes to look into it, don't be impulsive. Evaluate the benefits. So: do you intend to proclaim yourself guilty? I assure you that I will personally undertake to prevent any harm coming to you.»
William stayed silent and waited a little, not to evaluate the proposal the officer submitted with such enthusiasm, more simply not to give impulsive answers that could get him into trouble. He felt his pulse rate going up and for a few seconds he could not breathe. He then stated with calm and conviction: «I have nothing to confess, because I have committed no crime. Indeed, I would like to understand on what basis you accuse me of sabotage.»
He avoided meeting Patrick Rea's eyes. The officer stared at him for a while, without saying a word. Then he broke the tie.
«Well. Perfect. Do as you like. So, let's open the Deveux William's file», said the militiaman, with bitterness and growing haste, hysterically mistreating his computer. Needless to insist, Patrick Rea thought, he would only end up prolonging that torture. The other employee, meanwhile, continued to record meticulously all that was happening, darting his hands as soon as the officer spoke.
«Well, then, with regards to technical aspects, we will call in one of our experts later. But for now, we're going to focus on charges. Are you ready?»
Ready for what? William thought.
«Well. Count one: accusation of sabotage. How do you plead?»
«Innocent», he replied, without hesitation.
«Do you accept the formal blame? I remind you that in the event of a conviction it can allow you to benefit from a reduced sentence up to one fifth.»
Until then William had only heard of it, and he would certainly never think he could subject to such rule. With the formal blame, the defendant publicly made amends for the inconvenience caused to Scarlet Militia and to the citizens, for the time taken from the machinery of justice and for the cost increase for public administration. The subject basically regretted and apologized for not immediately pleading guilty and for forcing Militia officers to endure all the related lengthy procedures. So to be clear, he asked forgiveness for his innocence. That statement would be disclosed to the citizens by all means for thirty days starting from the first call.
«No... I don't accept. I'm sorry.»
An unintentional I'm sorry slipped out of his mouth and he hoped, then, that it could help to calm things down.
«Not even that! It's getting ridiculous!» Rea lost his temper and punched the table with his left hand.
«All right, Deveux. I'll play your game... but just for now.»
He took a little break.
«Count two: accusation of stealing confidential information. How do you plead?»
«Not guilty.»
«Do you accept the formal blame?»
«I do not accept.»
The farce went on for another three counts: sale of confidential information, serious misconduct and gross negligence. With each answer from William, Patrick Rea angrily slapped the computer. With nothing to support that argument, William had the strange feeling that things were going better than he hoped.
The legal system of East Eden did not exclude the possibility of seemingly contradictory charges. It was not uncommon to find oneself with a dozen charges, from the most serious to the most trivial, so William was not blown away by being accused of both sabotage and negligence.
After completing the brief preliminary phase without much success, officer Patrick Rea began a detailed examination of the allegations. He summoned a colleague expert in cyber crimes, Christopher Bruford, in order to refute and contest any argument adduced by William Deveux. The file provided by Minneman Company seemed to be comprehensive and abundant, with Garreth Thomander's eloquence highlighting every William's fault or mistake. According to the practice, the whole 127-page dossier had to be re-read in the presence of at least two witnesses, which would not have been necessary if William Deveux had pleaded guilty. During the reading, Rea made a lot of grimaces, both because of force of habit and because he was thinking again about that damned metalball game, whose viewing was even more at risk. Every now and then he passed a refreshing towel to give some relief to his sweaty forehead.
William already knew the contents of that dossier, more or less, and that reading seemed interminable. He could not help but get distracted a couple of times and think about Lucinda. What was she doing? Did she ever think of him? Would she call him back? Of course not, the deal was that it was up to William to call, but without being insistent and intrusive.
A clap of hands woke him from his trance. Patrick Rea applauded and rubbed his hands, informing the audience that, from then on, they would be serious.
«Well, Deveux. I want you to know that if it had been a charge of murder or, even worse, a crime against Our Most Excellent Institute, I could have directly passed sentence and you better believe that I would have done it! However, due to the category of crimes for which you've been accused, an adequate trial is established. Which we would have easily avoided if you had not been so stubborn.»
He looked William straight in the eye, hoping he would finally give in, but he did not get any result.
«I'll tell you more: such crimes bore me to death, I would spend my time in a very different way. But Mr. Minneman is one of our main supporters and His Excellency DeMartini is especially fond of him. So, here we are.»
Rea meant here we are wasting time and resources and, by the look in their eyes, his colleagues also thought the same way.
«Let's go on and start from the beginning. The contract had a duration of 42 days, do you confirm Deveux?»
William was perplexed for a moment, he did not recall exactly, but he thought he had to confirm. After all, the information was certainly accurate.
«You were in charge of that project, right?»
«Yes.»
«Who was involved, besides you?»
«Well, there were James Dufour, Hakeem Richardson, Malik Renard, plus an external consultant, Michelle Newman.»
«So we have four potential accomplices.»
«Accomplices?»
«Of course. However, if you wish, we will pretend - I apologize - we will believe in your innocence.»
He turned to the scribe on the other end.
«Carlton, it shall be recorded that Mr. Deveux requests the presumption of innocence», he said defiantly. Carlton Buchanan winked at his superior, then performed.
«Let's sum up, shall we? There were five of you and all of you had access to all the technical equipment of Minneman Company. So one of you, at least, had the chance to commit a crime. The reason is irrelevant at the moment, we can infer it later.»
He paused and touched his face, as if to make sure he shaved carefully.
«Oh, I remind you that if we put a charge on any of your colleagues, you would be strictly liable, even excluding your direct involvement.»
«Who's to say the guilty wasn't someone inside Minneman?», William suggested.
Patrick Rea screamed out loud.
«Deveux! How dare you? Our respectable legal system does not allow anyone to respond to an accusation with another accusation! Do you really expect me to believe that you didn't know?»
Rea's face turned bright red, the officer started to wheeze and breathe with his mouth open. Rea got as angry as if he were personally offended by those words. William would like to slap his smart mouth. Unfortunately, impulse
control was still his weak point.
«Where would... where would we end up if every criminal had a chance to make accusations? What would become of the order and integrity of our system if we allowed any rogue to reject the accusations by blaming his accusers?», the officer argued, waving his arms chaotically. For the first time since the interrogation began, William was really scared.
«This is your first sentence, so I will show understanding and tolerant, but do not believe you can abuse it. Do you understand me?»
Patrick Rea emphasized the word sentence instead of accusation, nevertheless William wisely chose not to correct him. For a few minutes it was hard to hear a peep out of anyone. No sound, only the pungent stench of some kind of cheap cleaner. Rea mumbled the word ridiculous countless times and vented his frustration by hitting the unfortunate computer, hoping to appease his anger.
«Do you understand me?», he harshly repeated. William ruefully nodded.
«Well... let's cut it short. Accusation of sabotage. Let's examine installation and programming. Tell us what you did, Deveux.»
William regrouped his thoughts, then he tried to list all that was worth mentioning, almost whispering and frequently coughing.
«I don't know if I'll be able to recall everything, however, at first, we replaced both central unit's and computers' housing shell, mostly made of plastic, with one of a particularly reinforced aluminum alloy, clearly more resistant.»
«Deveux, avoid personal notes, you're not here to try to convince me of anything», Rea hastened to point out, more and more upset.