The Broken Universe

by Melko, Paul

  “A little,” Melissa said. “But the point remains. If the justice comes from you, it might be easier to swallow.”

  John shook his head. “Me? That’s a lot of responsibility. Deciding the fates of these two people…”

  Grace snorted. “You decided the fate of everyone out there.” She waved in the direction of the New Toledo town square. “You, and no one else. You can’t back out now.”

  John sighed. Grace shrugged at him, as if to say that, yes, indeed this was your idea.

  “Tell me everything about this Jason Grayborn,” John said. “And everything about Amalona.”

  Grace snorted. “Fair and balanced, sure,” she said. “She might have a history of false rape allegations.”

  “Grace,” John said.

  “Right, right. Innocent until guilty.”

  “He’s a third degree,” Melissa said.

  “What?”

  “Third degree of separation from Devon and Jane,” Melissa said. “I’ve started thinking of our community as it relates to our first settlers from 7538. The Alarians and Devon and Jane and the two girls are zero. Anyone they recruited that they knew are one degree. Those recommended by one degrees are twos, and so on. The farther out the separation, the less likely the recommendation gets acted on. Family takes priority over friends.”

  “I didn’t realize it was so complicated,” John said.

  “Recommended immigrants are placed up for additional positive or negative recommendations. Three negatives will sink you. Ten positives will get you a visit from the emigration team. Jason Grayborn was recommended by a second degree, Cecil Inkster. He received ten positives by other third degrees who may or may not have known him. He has EMT skills, which made him a strong candidate. We still don’t have a doctor and just a single nurse. If a murderer had an M.D., he or she might still get ten recommendations. Jason Grayborn emigrated in January, and has been a productive member of the settlement until now, as far as I know.”

  “And you keep track of how many people personally?” Grace said.

  “I manage by exception,” Melissa said. “Whatever comes to my attention, I deal with.”

  “And Amalona?”

  “She’s twenty-five, sweet, kind, and twisted from ten years in the Alarian seraglio,” Melissa said. “She works in the greenhouse. She commutes to Universe Ten one day a week for an agriculture class. Otherwise not on my radar.”

  “And what happened?”

  “We have a problem in the ratio of men to women here,” Melissa said. “It started with the Alarians, and we haven’t managed to balance it out. There are two females for every male here, and some of the men think they can have the pick of the litter.”

  “There have been other incidents like this?” Grace said.

  “No, no, nothing like this,” Melissa said. “But there’s an attitude that any man can get the woman he wants, or at least, a woman. And I’m not willing to lower our threshold to get more men just so everyone can have a date on Saturday night.” She sighed. “Anyway, last Friday evening, there was an impromptu party. Liquor was available. I’m still not sure where it’s coming from. Nor am I sure it’s breaking any rules. At least not until the Council makes a decision on alcohol. Jason shows some attention to Amalona. Witnesses say they danced. All in fun according to some. A little hot and heavy according to others. Jason and Amalona disappear and no one really notices when. No one really notices when Jason reappears and Amalona doesn’t. Two days later, Englavira comes to my office saying she has a problem.”

  “Amalona never came forward?” John asked.

  “Why does that matter?” Grace said.

  “I’m just asking a question, Grace.”

  “She didn’t. Englavira said she was chipper, same as always, went to work the next day. Came back. No one noticed anything. Until she happened to run across Grayborn in the cafeteria. She collapses, hysterical, and Englavira doesn’t get anything out of her until she sedates her. Then Amalona explains that she had ‘performed poorly,’ which I have come to find out is Alarian male code for a generic reason to beat and torture an Alarian female.”

  “Shit,” Grace said.

  “Englavira checks her out. She has bruises on her inner thighs—”

  “According to Englavira,” John said. “Did anyone see them?”

  “John,” Grace cried. “How can you—”

  “No. No one else saw them,” Melissa said. “But Englavira said she was bruised on the throat as well. Handprints around her throat.”

  “He doesn’t deny the sex?” Grace said. “He doesn’t deny that?”

  “No,” Melissa said.

  “Fry him,” Grace said.

  “Grace,” John said.

  “You chicken. You’re scared of doing the wrong thing. You males are all the same.”

  “Grace, we have to be sure!” John said. “We have to know for sure.”

  “And when we know for sure?” Grace said. “What do we do?”

  John shrugged. “I don’t know. Send him away.”

  “We can’t send him back to Winter,” Melissa said. “He knows too much.”

  “Some other universe?” John said. “We have a lot of choices. We can banish him for suspected wrongdoing, can’t we?”

  Grace looked at him and shook her head. “Make it someone else’s problem? No dice, John. No dice at all. He doesn’t get to do this to some other woman. I won’t allow that.”

  “What are you saying, Grace?” John said.

  She stared him in the eye. “We end his life,” she said. “If he’s guilty of this, we end his life.”

  John felt his body weakening. He sat heavily in the chair across from Melissa’s desk.

  “Execute him?”

  “If we know for certain he did it, yes.”

  “And if we don’t?”

  “If you can’t convince yourself he did it,” Grace said, “then you can banish him to some random universe.”

  “I don’t know if I can—”

  “Then who? Prime? Henry? Some other you?” Grace said. “You started this game, Rayburn. You gotta play the hand.”

  “How about you?” John said.

  “Don’t even suggest it,” Grace said, a grim grin on her face. “He’d never stand a chance of justice from me.”

  “Okay,” John said. He stood and looked out onto the river. “I’ll do it. Tell Grayborn I’m meeting with him tomorrow. He can have anyone he wants with him.”

  * * *

  John met with Jason Grayborn and Cecil Inkster the next morning. Grace refused to be there, not even to take notes. John used a cassette recorder to tape the interview.

  “So what the hell is this all about?” Jason said. He was a tall man, undoubtedly handsome to women. Dark-haired, sharp-featured. His face was symmetric and thin. He moved fluidly, gracefully as if he could have been a gymnast in college or high school.

  “I think you know,” John said.

  “It’s bullshit, is what it is,” Cecil Inkster said. He was shorter, pudgy, a dull-looking man compared to his friend. He and Jason had been roommates in college. Cecil was a friend of Devon’s brother.

  “It must be something if the legendary John Rayburn is here,” Grayborn said.

  John felt himself recoil at the flattery. Would it have worked if the man’s life wasn’t in the balance? No, it seemed so insincere, in all respects.

  “Jason, I need to tell you what you’re up against,” John said. “If you raped that girl—if you raped Amalona, the penalty is death.”

  “What?” Grayborn cried. “That’s bullshit! Did she say it was rape? Did she say that? Because she was coming on to me!”

  Cecil stared with dark eyes in his pudgy face.

  Grayborn stood up then. “Screw this! I’m outta here.”

  He stood and pulled open the door, stopping short as he saw John Superprime standing there with a gun in a holster. John had asked Superprime to be his master at arms.

  “Interview ain’t over ye
t, Grayborn,” Superprime said.

  “Sit back down, Jason,” John said. “We have to do this.”

  Jason turned, a look of rage on his face.

  “Ask what you want, Rayburn,” he said. “My story is the same. She wanted it. I gave it to her. Anything else that’s said is a lie.” He sat on the chair.

  Cecil wrung his hands, nervous at what he was suddenly a part of.

  “Tell me what happened.”

  “When?”

  “On the night you and Amalona had sex,” John said.

  “She was into me. I was into her. It was clear from the get-go,” Jason said, his inflection flat. “We danced. We drank. Then we found a dark corner in one of the barracks. She initiated it. She reached into my pants. We had sex. It was pretty hot.” He nudged Cecil, who only returned a blank stare. “Then I came back to the dance. That’s it.”

  “She had handprints around her neck,” John said.

  “You’ve had sex. I’ve seen you with that Casey girl. You know that things happen. It got a little wild. It happens.”

  “She was bruised.”

  “Things … happen,” he said, enunciating each word slowly.

  “Did she say stop?”

  “Never.”

  “Did she try to get away?”

  “The door was open,” Jason said. “She could have left.”

  “How do you explain her reaction to you in the cafeteria?”

  “Post-traumatic stress syndrome,” Jason said. “You know what crap those Alarians have been through. Normal sex with a normal man probably was too alien for her. How should I know?”

  John stared at him. He was too smooth. He had easy answers for everything. As if he’d been through this all before.

  “Who else have you dated here?”

  “Dated?”

  “Who else have you had sex with?”

  “Oh, no. That doesn’t work. You can’t use details from another case for this one. That’s inadmissible evidence.”

  “You sound like you’ve been through this before,” John said.

  “Bite me, Rayburn.”

  They sat staring at each other for a long minute. John knew Jason’s story wasn’t going to change. He’d have to talk to Amalona next.

  “Don’t go near her or another woman,” John said. “Not until the investigation is over.”

  “Or what, Rayburn?”

  “We’ll banish you, as far away as we can get you.”

  * * *

  Dark circles banded Amalona’s eyes. She sat hunched on the chair in Melissa’s office. He had met her once, other than the mass escape from the seraglio. He couldn’t recall her being anything but a happy young woman. Now she looked haunted.

  As he watched her sitting there, John decided that he would make Jason pay if she agreed he had raped her. Impartial judge be damned.

  “Tell me what happened between you and Jason Grayborn,” John said.

  Amalona looked at him with blank eyes. “Who?”

  “Jason Grayborn,” John said.

  “I’m sorry, master, but I don’t know who that is.”

  “I’m not your master,” John said.

  “I’m sorry to offend,” she said, looking down at the floor.

  “Jason Grayborn gave you alcohol at the dance last Friday. Do you remember?”

  Amalona shrugged.

  “You two danced. Then he led you to the barracks where you and he had sex.”

  Amalona blushed. “I don’t think that happened.”

  “People saw you together. Jason claims you two had sex.”

  “Why would he say that?”

  She seemed to honestly not remember what had happened between her and Jason Grayborn.

  “Because it happened. Because he plied you with alcohol and then raped you.”

  Amalona looked at him in horror. A look of revulsion passed over her face, followed by a rictus of pain. She groaned and flopped from the chair. She began to keen, curled in a ball on the floor. John tried to lift her back up but she recoiled from his touch.

  The door opened and Englavira appeared. She had walked Amalona over from her dormitory.

  “What did you do?”

  John shook his head. “I tried to get her to remember.”

  “Fool.”

  “I’m sorry,” John said. He stood up while Englavira scurried to lift Amalona to the chair. “But I need her statement.”

  “We all know what happened,” she said coldly.

  “We know what probably happened,” John said. “A man’s life is at stake.”

  “It is no life,” Englavira said sadly.

  “Please take her back to the dormitory.” As Englavira helped the weak and befuddled Amalona away, John motioned to Devon.

  “That was quick,” Devon said.

  “She doesn’t remember anything,” John said. “I can’t … hurt her more.”

  “Now what?” John looked at the fleshy man dressed in khaki pants and sweater, such an odd contrast to the paranoid man shivering next to a weak fire in Universe 7538. They were doing something good here, weren’t they? Would he and his family have died this winter in 7538 if Casey hadn’t convinced him? Had it been Casey or had it been Jane, his wife, who convinced him?

  John’s thoughts turned back to Grayborn’s case. Who would convince Grayborn?

  “Devon, get me Cecil Inkster.”

  “Inkster? You got it.”

  John stood at the window, leaning against the rough wood frame. Melissa was right. This was all his doing. He should have expected something like this to happen. When a thousand near strangers come and live together, people would clash. He had just willy-nilly brought the immigrants together and now they were having problems. And no little problems. Life-and-death problems.

  “Maybe John Prime is the better man for this,” John said to himself.

  He saw Devon dash back toward the community building. Cecil Inkster walked slowly, reluctantly behind. He looked like a man who was in over his head and with no easy way out. What had Grayborn said to him after the first interview? John wondered. The roommate would know the history of Grayborn. He’d know all the foibles. But he was in awe of Grayborn, that was clear.

  John waited for Devon’s knock, wondering what he could hope to get from Cecil.

  “Come in,” he called.

  Cecil entered, ill at ease.

  “Yeah?” he said. Then more boldly, “What do you want? Shouldn’t Jason be here?”

  “Why? Does he speak for you?”

  Cecil flushed.

  “So, you know Jason better than anyone, right?”

  “I guess.”

  “Then you know the answer to this question.”

  “What?”

  “How many women has he done this to?”

  The color ran away from his face.

  “I … I … don’t know. He … hasn’t ever.”

  “Really? This is the first time?”

  Cecil looked out the window. He was sweating, even in the cool air of the mayor’s office. He swallowed.

  “He’s never raped anyone…” Cecil said. Cecil almost added “before” but he held back.

  “Never in college with all the women he dated. All those women he hated. This can’t have been the first.”

  “There were a lot of women,” Cecil said. “It was all consensual!”

  “No bruises, no crying, no begging for him to stop? No alcohol or rohypnol?”

  “Never!”

  “No hands around the throat? No forced sodomy?”

  “No!”

  “Did you watch?”

  “No!”

  “Did you help!”

  “Shut up!”

  “Did you?”

  “Shut the hell up!” Cecil screamed. His face was red. He wheezed, with hunched shoulders.

  John fell silent and watched Cecil. He was as much a sociopath as Grayborn, but Cecil was a victim as well.

  There was a knock on the door.

  “Come i
n,” John said into the ringing silence.

  Grace stood there, a folder in her hand.

  “I have some research for the case,” she said, glancing at Cecil.

  “Research?”

  “Yeah, you’ll want to read this right now.” She handed him the folder and then shut the door behind her as she left.

  John took the folder, sat behind the desk, and opened it. He knew immediately what it was, a Pinball Wizards, Transdimensional, research report. Grace had sent a request to every settled universe and requested a detailed examination of Jason Grayborn’s history in each. Inside the legal-sized envelope were ten separate manila folders.

  The first, labeled Quayle-7510, had a single piece of paper that read, Subject does not exist. No records of parents. The second, labeled Low-7322, read, Subject exists and lives in New York City. No police record. The third was thicker. In Universe 7462—Universe Pinball, so named because it was the only universe they’d found with the traditional pinball game John remembered from 7533—Jason Grayborn had been arrested for sexual assault and released. No charges were filed. The woman’s name was not listed.

  In Universe 7625, Jason Grayborn had spent two years on probation for sexual assault. The woman’s name was listed as Yolanda Kishtan. He raped the same woman in Ten and spent four years in jail. It happened during his college years, time when Cecil Inkster would have been present.

  “What happened to Yolanda Kishtan?” John asked quietly.

  Cecil’s body jerked as if he were on marionette strings.

  “What? Who?”

  “Did you help Grayborn?”

  “I … I … thought this was about Amalona!”

  “How many times has Grayborn done this? How many times have you helped?”

  “I never helped! I really liked Yolanda. I’m the one who asked her over, but he’s the one who … who … made love to her after I fell asleep.”

  “‘Made love’?”

  “That’s what he said. That’s what he said. I didn’t know.”

  “How many others?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “How many do you know about?”

  “I…” Cecil dropped his face into his palms. He was bawling; spittle and tears dripped on the floor.

  “You let that happen to Yolanda, a girl you liked and that he hurt. How could you do that?”

  “I was asleep.”

  “But you know he did it.”