Civil Blood_The Vampire Rights Trial that Changed a Nation

by Chris Hepler

  Morgan's gang is struggling with consent, but the nuances of that argument are not for public consumption.

  Cho continues. "Are you worried that you might resort to violence in the future?"

  "There's temptation, of course, but you can't live your life without that."

  "Temptation to feed?"

  "Temptation to violence of any kind. I get cut off in traffic, too."

  There is an amused murmur from the media in the benches. Unprofessional, but that's real life for you.

  Cho paces slowly as he talks, alternating facing me and Bayat. "So, you can drive a car without hurting anyone, you can feed without hurting anyone, and you can apparently sit in court and hold a lengthy conversation without hurting anyone. Do you feel this proves Dr. Kern's statements incorrect?"

  "I do."

  "He alleged you attacked him once. Could you walk us through that?"

  "There's not much of a chronology of events there. What he says didn't happen."

  "Did he cut himself after you were infected?"

  "If he did, I don't recall it."

  "Did you at any point attempt to drink his blood?"

  "No."

  "Was there anything between you that could've been misinterpreted as a physical attack?"

  "No."

  "So, your position is, he's lying."

  "Yes."

  "No further questions, Your Honor."

  "Counsel, your witness," comes Bayat's voice. Reflexively, I look for a friendly face in the crowd, but the vipes have all stayed behind. We voted, and I was the tiebreaker. Going on the stand is how I can make things right again, and if there is any kind of physical danger, we've already lost.

  Campion takes the floor. She approaches but doesn't cross the last meter or two. "Dr. Ulan, you said you were infected four years ago. Is that correct?"

  "Yes."

  "And what jobs have you held down since that time?"

  "I write from home for medical journals under a pseudonym."

  "Why do you use a pseudonym?"

  "Because Dr. Kern and BRHI have been determined to find me, restrain me, and confine me based on my infected status."

  "I see. Well, it certainly is brave of you to come into court today."

  This woman has never had to identify a body at the morgue. She hasn't huddled in a subway, certain the person she thinks is following her is a hitman. She hasn't slept by the side of the road in a car in the Pennsylvania winter, praying she won't freeze to death, because home is not safe. I put those years into my voice.

  "I'm glad you noticed."

  "Have you held down a job that brings you in face-to-face contact with other people?"

  "No, I have not."

  "How successful would you say this career is?"

  "Not very."

  "Could you elaborate? Did you file any taxes?"

  "I did. I fell below the poverty line, so I actually got a refund."

  "Not only do you pay less in taxes, your contribution to society is directly diminished by your infection. You're living off other people's income and tax breaks where once you were a pioneer in an advanced medical field. Is that what you're saying?"

  "I wouldn't say it's any worse than being a housewife," I point out. "Or, for that matter, a recluse such as Henry David Thoreau."

  "Dr. Ulan, you did not choose this lifestyle, did you?"

  "No, I did not. It is, however, significantly less predatory than Marcus describes."

  "But it was not your choice. You are less able to join society because of your infection."

  Is that all you have? Lawyers are supposed to lay verbal traps, and this one barely scratched my ankle. But I know better than to yell what follows. Ice is better than fire. "I'm unable to join because your corporation wants my head."

  "Then, let's talk about this corporation and why it wants you. How many people did you infect during your last few months at BRHI?"

  "Three."

  "And who were they?"

  "The first was Adam Corus. He worked in the security department."

  "Is this the staff member Dr. Kern said you had a sexual relationship with?"

  "I didn't. I did, however, infect him, so Marcus can assume what he likes."

  "Who were the others?"

  "The others were Tyler Schwartz and Sarai Saleh, also known as Eva."

  "If I'm not mistaken, all those individuals are dead now. Is that right, Dr. Ulan?"

  I'm fine. I buried that grief years ago. "Yes."

  "And did these individuals resort to violence to feed their hunger?"

  "Yes."

  "Doesn't that make you partially responsible for the assaults on their victims?"

  "No. They had the same choice I did, the same choice anyone has. I chose persuasion. They chose something else. I'm not them, and I'm not Morgan Lorenz, either." It is not kind to, on national television, slap the man who reached out to me, but I must draw the distinction. If we win, Morgan will forgive me anything.

  "Dr. Ulan, when you say 'chose something else,' you are aware that many vipes choose first-degree, second-degree murder, correct?"

  "Yes."

  "And they don't need to eat, either. They can live entirely on drinking blood."

  "That is possible, but most patients prefer to eat normally."

  "Yes, I understand Morgan Lorenz was being fed during his captivity, but he ended up drinking blood anyway. Were you aware of that fact?"

  "Had Morgan come to me when he was first infected, things might have been different."

  "We are not here for speculation, Dr. Ulan. Yes or no."

  "Yes."

  "Dr. Ulan, how many people have you infected with this disease over the course of the last four years?"

  "I don't know."

  "Do you feed on one person a week? Two?"

  "It varies."

  "Give us a number, please."

  "One is usually sufficient."

  "There are fifty-two weeks in a year, are there not?"

  "Yes."

  "So, at one a week, that's fifty-two a year, and over the four years you have been infected, does that not total more than two hundred people exposed to your virus?"

  "Not all people exposed to the virus contract it."

  "Do you know its exact transmission rate?"

  Do I look like I have an epidemiology lab up my ass? "No."

  "But you know the first three people you bit or sucked or whatever got it. Now, Dr. Kern mentioned their investigations into whether or not those who contract the virus may be predisposed to it based on the level of hostile qi in their brain tissue—"

  "Objection," says Cho. "Counsel is not asking questions. She's lecturing the witness."

  Campion shoots him a glare. "Your Honor, the witness is straying from answering questions. I ask for some leeway as I provide context to questions."

  "Dr. Ulan, please answer the questions asked, and Ms. Campion, a few more questions than context. Continue."

  "If you dispute Dr. Kern's research, Dr. Ulan, tell me: have you conducted experiments on your virus in a controlled setting since your infection?"

  The room pauses.

  "Yes, I have. I can produce my results for evidence."

  There is an approving murmur from the crowd. I don't share their enthusiasm. I thought Campion dropped this line of attack, and lawyers don't ask questions to which they don't know the answer.

  "Have your papers undergone peer review?" Campion says.

  "Not yet, no."

  "I see. Dr. Ulan, if your research passes peer review and is approved, don't you stand to greatly benefit?"

  "In what regard?"

  "You would be able to seek restitution from BRHI, for starters."

  "I'm not participating in this lawsuit except as an expert witness. It would be a conflict of interest." I'm grateful for Morgan's idea now. We just dodged a shot.

  "That's admirable, but you'd probably be employed full-time again, right?"

  "Having my inalien
able constitutional rights restored to me is not an ulterior motive," I say. "It's called getting back to normal."

  Campion's face falls, but she takes a glance at one of her team, who signals by grabbing one wrist. She recovers. "Dr. Ulan, do criminals have their rights taken away from them when they are imprisoned for their crimes?"

  "No, they have their freedoms legally restricted."

  "Then, if you were a judge, and Morgan Lorenz or—who did you say? Sarai Saleh—or any of the other violent people we have heard about were in your courtroom, would you not see fit to put them in jail?"

  "I find the situation more complex than that."

  "Yes or no, Dr. Ulan."

  "Yes, but it is not all I would do."

  "That still sounds like a yes to me."

  "I would seek to treat them, which BRHI does not do."

  "Most other people infected with your predation syndrome are not the same as you, are they, Dr. Ulan?"

  "Objection. Speculation," says Cho.

  Bayat calls it. "Sustained."

  "I'll rephrase. In your personal experience, what percentage of infected use violence to feed?"

  Faces flash in my head. Adam, videoconferencing with a bloody mouth and tears streaming from his eyes. Najva, who had starved herself rather than be made impure by drinking blood until I practically force-fed her. Brion, the bondage dom who expected a safe word that never came because our mutual victim had passed out.

  My gaze settles on the cameras. Morgan is watching. My mother will be watching. Can I boldly proclaim none? It is what the moment needs, a counterbalance to Kern. But I am Ulan, and lies do not counterbalance lies. Only the truth does that. I have basis for shame, yes, but I also have basis for pride. In the end, I look Campion squarely in the eyes.

  "I can't give a number," I say. "I don't always ask."

  Campion shakes her head ever so slightly. "Thanks for your time. No further questions."

  I let out a breath. I've survived, but the perception of my expertise has surely crashed and is bleeding out. Campion didn't even berate me for my inconsistency, which is pretty insulting.

  I return to Cho's table to pick up my sunglasses and scarf. It would feel good to slink away, to meet up with the vipes and complain late into the night. But the cameras are still on me, and if I so much as shed a tear, it will be ink and pixels within the day. How many infected people will lose hope if they see that?

  I gather the scarf but don't put it on. My scarf is my shield. No sense donning it on television and giving the mobs accurate info about my clothing habits. The sunglasses, yes.

  "Can't stand the good times, huh?" Cho says. "You did pretty well."

  "I don't need a spin room," I reply, making for the exit. The sounds of BRHI's lawyers reach my ears, but they are far away. I want to believe they can't hurt me now, but I have seen their company's reach before, and it is far, far too long.

  37 - RANATH

  September 17th

  My surprise is like any magic trick—its effect is dramatic, but it is simple, almost pedestrian, if you are the one doing it. I'm outside, near one of the courthouse's square columns, where a fresh turpentine smell remains from the day's recent graffiti removal. I listen for the press surrounding Ulan as she exits. When I spot her sunglasses, I follow. I maintain my qi function to remain unobtrusive, but I hardly need it. When cameras flash and questions fly, everyone is focused on navigating the crowd, not searching it.

  Jessica stays calm. "I'm not answering questions now," she says. Then, louder, "No questions, but here, I'll give you an image."

  She removes her sunglasses and stands under the statue of Justice. This particular one has scales in each hand. The flashes go crazy, and no small number of journalists back away to fit both her and the statue in the shot. Now that they're repositioned, she has room to leave

  Jessica heads down the pathway to the street parking, and I hurry behind her. Her car chirps as she unlocks it, and I crank up the qi function's power as I slip into the rear seat. Ulan belts herself, starts the car, and I let the function drop.

  "Hello, Jessica."

  She jumps and sees me in the rearview mirror. She spins around. "Ranath?"

  "Roland, now," I say. "Usually."

  "What's the gun for?" I drew it slipping into the car. It's at low ready—aimed down casually at the floor.

  "Dealing with stupidity," I say. "Fortunately, I don't think you qualify."

  She pauses, obviously thinking about it, and comes to the same conclusion I did. In the time it'd take to extract herself from her seat to try anything, she'd be full of holes.

  "You want to ask questions or something?"

  "Correct."

  "About Morgan?"

  "I thought about it," I say. "It would seem logical, my grilling you on his whereabouts, since you are obviously flocking to his little movement, but then, I thought, I don't need to know that unless I'm going to come calling."

  "I thought you'd be chasing him."

  "I gave Infinity a gift last time we met," I say. "I don't know any clearer signal that I'm no longer hunting vipes."

  "Yeah, I wonder why I keep getting that false impression," she retorts.

  "I need insight about Kern," I say.

  Jessica blinks, blindsided. "I've been gone for years," she says. "Anything I would know would pale in comparison—"

  "—to my mountain of inside information. No. It's not like that at all, and I need to know why."

  I lean forward slightly. "Jess—Forced Protection tried to kill me. He tried to pretty it up. He tried to protect me in a fashion. But I was going to ask him questions, and he threw me out and told the wolves to start biting. Something about his motivation does not add up."

  "Well," she says after a moment, "don't leave me hanging."

  "This entire suit could have been settled out of court," I explain. "It would have been cheaper by far. It would limit the damages to those currently infected at the time of the suit. And I'm sure the option was put on the table, and I'm sure Kern was among those people who said no. We will not go gently. We will beat you down. But I don't understand the calculation. Do you?"

  Jess takes a moment to digest the new thought. "When I met Kern, he was always a little starry-eyed. He talked a lot about potential, big prizes."

  "Idealism? That doesn't seem like Kern."

  "He could be clinging. This is all he's got left."

  "No, he'd cut loose if necessary. His divorce taught him that much."

  "Do you know if he started looking elsewhere for a job?"

  "We've had conversations. It would've come up, and I would have known."

  "Okay, so he thinks he can gain more this way. I don't know, Ranath. I came to say my piece and get out. What Kern thinks doesn't keep me up at night."

  I have sympathy, but I don't let it show on my face. "I don't believe you. I remember a Jessica Ulan who said to her students that we must train, above all, our minds. That we should not let them rest easy because we have so little competition in our field, but we must perfect ourselves to be able to teach others what we know. 'We are the bandwidth,' you said, 'between the mysteries of the universe and future generations, whose numbers speed toward the infinite.' So, if you are trying to convince me that while Kern was preparing his deposition, you were napping on a couch somewhere, unaware of what he might say that could take away your right to exist, I would like to ask where Dr. Ulan is and what you've done with her."

  I was hoping to break through, but she's just frustrated. "Ranath, I've been practicing getting my part right. I haven't had time to think about him. We rehearsed some questions, but that was for that lawyer. Kern's the one you need to interrogate."

  It sounds like truth, which is not what I want to hear. I'm silent.

  "Are you angry?" asks Ulan. "Does this mean I'm dead?"

  "I don't like hurting people out of anger," I say.

  "Really? Just how many of my infected friends have you killed?"

  I don'
t owe her an answer. A week ago, I'd have self-righteously explained how my kills are quite cold-blooded. Now, that sounds terrible. I stay clinical. "If I'm going to admit to anything, I'm not going to do it in your car."

  She gives a throaty laugh. "They sure trained the life out of you, didn't they? Here I am with a question that requires a thimbleful of trust, and you're off in psycho-land thinking my car's bugged. That's it, isn't it?"

  "You just posed for a photo op that's going to be seen by a hundred million people," I say. "I'm not in the mood to be naïve."

  Ulan looks at me in the mirror, the dark, wrinkled flesh under her eyes making her look tired. "You ever talk to any of them beforehand?"

  "Talk to whom?"

  "The vipes. Is it just something you do because you don't know any better or—"

  "I have met many vipes. I have talked to many vipes. I have seen their degeneration in the hospitals, and I know what I have done. And before you get all righteous, I think it's safe to say I've had a few experiences you wouldn't have predicted."

  "Really," she says. "She talks about you, you know."

  "Unsurprising."

  Ulan smiles. "Well, that's cute. You know exactly whom I'm referring to."

  "The number of vipes we mutually know now stands at three or four, including you. I have one last question, and then you're free to slink."

  Ulan gives a little snort. "If that's what the price is—"

  "The building in Glenn Dale. Why haven't you been there yet?"

  "How do you know we haven't?"

  "You'd have talked about it by now, believe me."

  "Infinity hasn't brought it up to the others yet. She's afraid to explain how she knows you. Seriously, I've known you a lot longer, and I can't afford to trust you. Just saying you're helping isn't good enough."