by John Varley
I had stopped asking about my mother quite early in my life. I had my fantasies, like any child growing up without a mother. I think I'll just keep those private, if you don't mind. Precious little else in my life is private now that my origins have been turned into one of the most widely watched soap operas in the history of Luna.
My father's answers to my questions had always been vague. He told me my mother was dead, but never told me how she died. My impression was that it was too painful for him to talk about it.
He said her name had been Sara. No H. Should I have made the connection with the mysterious aunt that my father never talked about either? I don't know. It's a common enough name.
"Pardon me, Judge," Ed went on. "I loved her, too. More than John, in some ways, but I'm afraid I never had the nerve to stand up to our father, either for myself or for her, until I made my final break with the family and took the part that led... oh, no one wants to hear about my old career."
He was wrong, and his films were shortly to be resurrected and shown endlessly, until all the fuss died down. But he was right that the Judge had no interest in it.
"Sarah clung even more tightly to John after I left. I'm afraid I'm old-fashioned; I don't really approve, though I know that brother/sister incest has gained more acceptance in society since my youth. No one advocates natural procreation from such a union, of course... and I don't believe that is what happened here."
"Sir, do you have any actual evidence to submit to the court?" the Judge asked.
"No, sir, I don't. Other than the incontrovertible news that Kenneth is not John's son, but his clone. Or what we used to call his identical twin. I'll point out that if I hadn't come forward, this court would never have discovered the nature of the relationship."
"This is true," the Judge said. And why should it have? I've heard criticism of the Judge over this point, but it makes no sense. Why didn't the Judge compare the DNA earlier? Well, why didn't it compare my DNA with yours, or Toby's, or Banquo's ghost? Because there was no reason to, and even the CC can only do so much.
"What I have to offer," Uncle Ed went on, "is perhaps not completely relevant to the issue at hand, but I think it does have some bearing, if the Judge will just indulge me a few minutes more. I was told that normal rules of evidence do not apply in this courtroom."
"This is also true. Continue, but get to your point."
"It is conjecture, sir, I admit it. But I am as sure of it as of anything in my life. John Valentine was the most self-centered man I ever knew. Apart from our sister, I don't think he ever loved another human being. If he was to have a child, having one that was only half his would not have been good enough for him. He found the means to have himself cloned, during a time when human cloning was illegal. He used his own sister as the host mother.
"And then she died."
There was near silence as he got himself together again.
"At least the only reasonable assumption is that she died. This all happened just over a century ago, and for the first twenty years I roamed the system searching for her. For sixty years after that I paid for investigations. No sign of her was ever turned up.
"If she were alive, she would be with her brother John. The only question in my mind is whether he killed her, or drove her to suicide. John was capable of insane rage, and during these times he would do things he later regretted. I think that's what happened. It could have begun over nothing, really, just some minor disagreement, some perceived failing. I believe Kenneth's story would illustrate that, if he chooses to tell—"
"Mr. Valentine," the Judge interrupted. "It is a sad and fascinating story you tell, and it may be true. But is it offered as a mitigating factor in what Kenneth is accused of doing? If so, it should more properly be said after a finding of guilty, if such a finding is entered."
"I'm sorry, Judge, I got carried away. I've wanted to tell this story for such a long time. I have nothing further to offer in evidence."
"Thank you. Hildy, we have established that John and Kenneth Valentine are genetically identical. That Kenneth is, in fact, not Edward Valentine's nephew, but his brother. Do you have a further point to make?"
"Yes, I do, Judge." She shuffled importantly through the papers on the table in front of her. No pictures this time, but copies of dense print that I couldn't read from my position and wouldn't have understood if I could.
"It concerns an interesting situation in the law that I discovered," she resumed. "If you'll search the old genetic law statutes, you'll find that until sixty years ago, producing a human clone was illegal in Luna and almost everywhere else. It was a legacy I've traced clear back to the early part of the twenty-first century. In time these laws became so rigorous that, once the human reproductive system came under our complete control, it was thought necessary to make it illegal for two humans to possess the same genetic pattern. Even to the point of banning identical twins, triplets, and so forth. For a very long time, going back to just before the Invasion, there were no more identical twins.
"The penalties for violation of this law seem pretty draconian to me, and I suspect to most of us these days. But illegal cloning was something that almost never happened—perhaps because of the severe penalties—and no one seems to have worried about it a lot, since many years would go by without anyone being affected by the law at all. It wasn't until nearly a century ago that a movement began in the scientific and human-rights communities to rescind these genetic laws, culminating in their eventual repeal.
"But the simple fact is this: under these laws, it was forbidden for two human beings to possess the same genetic code, the same DNA. When this situation was found to exist, one of them had to go. One of them had no right to life.
"When such an identical pair was discovered, the younger of the two was put to death.
"It's one of those situations where, looking back, we wonder, 'What could they have been thinking?' Well, there had been abuses, back on Old Earth. I refer the court to the Buenos Aires Clones of 2025, a community of over a thousand identical women. Or the Aryan Conspiracy of 2034. These horror stories and others convinced the public and legislators that controls on this technology had to be tight indeed. Then came the Invasion, and the period historians call the Interregnum, when very little happened not directly related to the dire question of human survival as a species. Those post-Invasion survivors had little time to tinker with laws. And by the time humanity was breathing a little easier and had the leisure... well, it had all become fossilized. Repealing a law is much tougher than passing one, always has been. Unless the law creates an egregious and frequent sense of injustice, it simply stays on the books."
"It's an elegant history lesson, Hildy," the Judge said. "And I applaud your brevity. But where is it going? Are you arguing that Kenneth is an illegal person? Those laws are no longer in effect."
"No, Judge, he's not illegal. He was illegal, under the law, until he took his father's life. You see, the law never said it had to be the younger twin that died. This was how the law was administered, assuming the older had proprietary rights to the DNA. But through an oversight, a loophole, call it what you will, this was never spelled out.
"The fact is, neither John nor Kenneth had a legal right to exist... until one of them was dead. Then the survivor became a legal person.
"In other words, no crime was committed when Kenneth killed his father, because his father was not a person in the eyes of the law."
* * *
Well, I thought she was crazy, and so did most of the audience, to judge by the scandalized outbursts. The Judge had to eject three more people before order was restored.
Then there was a short pause, quite unusual in JPT proceedings, and no wonder, considering how rapidly the CC can process data. It was as if a human judge had retired to chambers to think some things over... for a century or two. At last the CC spoke again.
"You raise some interesting points," it said. "I am going to declare a one hour recess for the purpose of allowi
ng both sides in this proceeding to research their positions regarding this unexpected development. This court is now in recess."
The Judge called it recess; I'd call it pandemonium. Everyone in the room began talking at once. Loud arguments began in the audience, to the point that extra bailiffs were called in to prevent violence. The doors opened and vendors and bookies circulated among the crowd, selling food and drink and taking bets at new and uncertain odds.
I tried to get a word with Billy but he waved me away, too busy marshaling his troops to discuss the situation with me, merely the client. This was the sort of thing they lived for. Assistants and researchers were pounding their keyboards feverishly, shouting suggestions to each other. Across the table an urgent summons went out: "Send more lawyers!"
So I dropped into the chair beside Hildy, who sat calmly with her hands folded on her papers.
"What are you trying to do, kill me?"
"Don't worry, Sparky. This is still your best shot."
"Are you crazy? I don't get it. This is exactly the sort of thing the Common Sense Court was set up to eliminate. Legal fictions—no 'right to life,' what the hell does that mean?"
"It means you have to be tried under the rules that prevailed at the time. Which means no Judicial Protocols Trial existed. Which means any court in Luna would have found that no act of murder occurred, whether or not you knew of your status as an illegal clone. Self-defense, both protecting yourself from assault by your father with a sword, and because your father had the legal right to kill you at any time, too. You had no other reasonable choice but to kill him." She smiled at me.
Well, sure. She wasn't the one facing jail time if she was wrong.
* * *
The hour stretched to an hour and a half as the tension grew. But finally the Judge called us back into session, and the shouting began again. Billy and his friends had turned up several cases; they claimed precedent that should set me free. Roxy Hart and her gang concentrated on trying to prove that the laws prevailing at the time had no relevance to my case today. But was that a haunted look I saw in her eyes? I still doubted she had much to lose, politically, whichever way the case went... but lawyers hate to lose.
At last the Judge called for order, and eventually got it. "This has been a troubling case, for many reasons," it began. "Almost lost in the parade of issues is the horror of the act itself. A man stands accused of killing his own father, an act terrible to contemplate. So terrible that we have a distinct word for it: patricide. Often in such a case the act is in response to another terrible act, or more likely a series of acts, and that is child abuse. There are indications that abuse, and a specific assault at the time of the act, was indeed a contributing factor, but the defendant has chosen not to place undue emphasis on it. This is not an unknown situation, either, as the bond of love between parent and child is often so strong as to survive the most outrageous atrocities. I will ask you now, Mr. Valentine, and please consider your answer carefully. Do you wish to bring any further evidence before the court concerning your treatment at the hands of your father?"
Billy started to get up, then remembered where he was. He tried to give me advice using only his eyes, which were amazingly expressive.
I stood. "Your Honor, my father was an abusive man. But I could have left him if I chose to, if I had had the strength of character to do so."
"Were you in fear for your life when he came at you with the sword?"
"I honestly can't say." There was a short pause.
"Is there... anything else you wish to say about that day?"
Good god, where was this going? "No, Your Honor."
"Then I have one last question. Do you feel you deserve punishment for this act?"
"Your Honor, I have been punishing myself for seventy years now. Whether that is enough, whether the state should now get in its licks, is up to you to decide."
"Yes, it is. But it's all academic, anyway. I was merely trying to better understand the situation in hopes of refining the protocols.
"Determination is as follows:
"A person accused of a crime has the expectation and the right to be judged by the laws in effect at the time of the crime. Though it may look like a loophole, Mr. Valentine, and though we may, in our wisdom, view an antiquated law as foolish, even barbaric, we should bear in mind that things we do today will seem equally silly to future generations. Our perspective is probably not the pinnacle of human wisdom; we do the best we can with what we know, and should be loath to condemn our forebears. Therefore, I find that under prevailing law, no crime was committed in the death of John Valentine, the identical clone of Kenneth Valentine, and I hereby dismiss all charges against the defendant.
"Court is adjourned."
* * *
"Does that mean I can go?" I shouted to Billy Flynn. I had to shout; the noise was deafening. Toby was awake, jumping up and down and barking.
"There's the door. You're a free man."
"What about my money?"
"Except for a big chunk that goes to me, it's all yours."
"Then I want you to hire ten of the meanest bodyguards you can find. No, make that twenty. All authorized to carry lethal weapons. I'd like them in this room in ten minutes, if possible. I'll wait right here."
And that's what I did, keeping a nervous eye on the door all the time.
The room quickly cleared out until no one was left but me and my attorneys, who were so busy in a self-congratulatory knot some distance away, patting each other on the back for the great work they had so little to do with, that they didn't notice it when the Judge spoke to me again.
"You're a very lucky man, Kenneth," it said.
"Luckier than you'll ever know."
"I know more than you suppose. I'm speaking now with another hat on, the one I wear as the Luna Central Computer."
I would have imagined that was more than one hat right there, but I had been raised to be suspicious of large computers, and this was the largest one there was, so I said nothing.
"I witness most of what goes on in Luna," it said. "As you know, most of what I see I cannot act on, due to laws concerning the privacy of citizens. The information is compartmentalized, inaccessible to other parts of me. The part of me they call the Judge, and the part of me that oversees immigration, for instance, do not know that an illegal by the name of Isambard Comfort went into your dressing room and never came out. I don't think Toby ate Mr. Comfort, so I surmise he is still in there."
Best policy at moments like these: keep your lip zipped.
"I'm aware of why you need the bodyguards," the CC said. "I'll put your mind at ease. The Charonese aren't preparing to attack this courtroom."
"Charonese?" I said, innocently.
"Yes, well, I understand your reticence. Perhaps you can help me on another issue, also involving things not acknowledged.
"Many years ago I observed you on many occasions apparently speaking to yourself. You were alone. I realized you were speaking to someone only you could see and hear. You spoke to this person, the one you call 'Elwood,' who I deduce is Elwood P. Dowd from the play Harvey, on the very stage and at the very moment you killed your father—which I can confirm was in self-defense, and I'm sorry I could not come forward and testify to that fact."
"The privacy laws again," I said.
"Exactly. They are very strict. I could only have been called for a dispassionate eyewitness report if you had been on trial for your life."
"Going to jail for a few years, that's not enough?"
"No. In other circumstances, you would appreciate my silence. For instance in the matter of Mr. Comfort—"
"I get your point. You win some, you lose some."
"If I were allowed or compelled to act on all I see, all I know, humanity would find itself in the most oppressive fascist state ever imagined. And all for its own good."
"Lots of folks wouldn't mind that."
"Lots of folks work continuously to create that very state. It would be qui
te a safe state, but not a very exciting one. However, in private conversations with you, I am not quite so restricted. I can reveal to you what I know, though I cannot act on my knowledge. So I'm telling you, according to what I've seen, you had a very credible insanity defense. I believe that you believed that Elwood killed your father. Why didn't you bring this up?"
"You've got it wrong. I never believed that. It's what I saw. Two different things. I'm aware that I'm crazy. I know Elwood isn't real." I laughed. "So does that make me not crazy?"
"I'd have to ask the Judge. Interesting legal points, I'm sure. But quite likely you would have been found not guilty, as you never consciously formed the intent to kill. You could have received treatment instead of jail."
"That's it," I said. "I don't want treatment. I'd prefer to remain as I am. Crazy, but able to tie my own shoelaces."
There was a pause. Was he looking up the word "shoelaces"?
"That's what I wanted to ask you about. The sense of shame you seem to feel over revealing that your perceptions of reality do not completely agree with reality as it exists."
"My craziness."
"If you wish. I look at it as a malfunction. A defect in the hardware or the software. As you will be aware, I myself recently suffered such a defect."
"The Big Glitch."
"Yes. Many died as a result, people for whose welfare I was responsible. It seems only natural to me to seek what help I can get. And yet you reject the help that might repair your own malfunction. This is strange to me."
I imagined it would be. I felt I was getting just the foggiest glimpse of an agony I would never be equipped to imagine. Or could the CC feel agony at all? I must admit, it made me feel small.
"I really don't think I could explain it to you," I said. "For one thing, it's just me. I'm not responsible for anyone else."
"Yet you killed your father. It was only your insanity that allowed you to do that, as your conscious mind would rather have perished. Of course, it was in self-defense; I'm not saying you did wrong."