To Dream

  “Why do you think a prisoner would draw a map of Pocketsville and hide it beneath his mattress?” Hack asked Bethel.

  “It was given to me by a prisoner named, Philo,” J-1 whispered to Norma, “before he was discharged. He drew it because he wanted me to visit him. I thought nothing more of it.”

  “Philo Vanch?” Norma glanced at the tumbling GTS grains sifting through the sandglass.

  J-1 shrugged. “I don’t know his last name, but he said he was a gardener.”

  Norma turned back to Teague. “Get Vanch here, now.”

  Teague hurried his way out of the room.

  “My best guess as to why a prisoner would conceal a map,” Bethel said to Hack, “is because he was preparing to break out of Prison House, or because he was planning something against Pocketsville.”

  The murmurs picked up again. The middle judge motioned to the bailiff. He retrieved the map and handed it to Norma, who studied it.

  “Did the robot ever mention he had this map?” Hack asked Bethel.

  “No.”

  “In fact, he kept it hidden beneath his mattress. Didn’t he?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s deceitful, is it not?”

  “Very,” Bethel replied.

  “Query ended your honors.”

  Norma hurriedly approached Bethel and asked her if another prisoner could have given the map to J-1.

  “I suppose,” she answered. “But why would—”

  “Thank you. Query ended.” Norma cut her off for two reasons. The first was that there was less than a half cup of granules in the upper part of the hourglass, and the second reason being she knew where Bethel was headed—But why would he hide the map if he wasn’t planning anything? Time was running out and she had a lot to overcome. As if in answer to her last thought, Teague entered the courthouse dragging Philo with him.

  “Requesting the presence of Philo Vanch,” Norma said.

  Philo staggered toward the witness stand. Passing J-1 he said, “Hey, J-boy, how are ya, cron-cron?” Muffled laughs floated across the room. The judges glanced at each other. Philo stumbled as his bottom dropped anchor in the witness chair.

  Norma had no time to react. The granules were down to a couple of tablespoons. “What do you know about a map found in J-1’s prison cell?”

  “Oh, you still have it?” he asked J-1. “Love to have ya over anytime. Anytime!”

  “Who drew the map?”

  “I did, of course.”

  “For what purpose?”

  “To visit me upon his liberation from Prison House.”

  “Invalid attestation!” Hack leaped to his feet. “This man is drunk. He’s in no proper condition to answer questions coherently. I request his testimony be expunged.”

  Norma stole a glimpse of the hourglass. It was down to a spoonful. She paused for three counts, and said, “This is Vanch’s normal condition. I wouldn’t trust him if he was sober.”

  Laughter rang out. Hack said over the merriment, “Except that Philo—”

  The bailiff blew the whistle hanging around his neck. At the same time the hourglass emptied.

  Hack groaned and pounded his fist in his hand.

  Norma smiled. She had timed it perfectly. Norma had anticipated what Hack’s response would be, Except that Philo was sober in Prison House, and didn’t want that lingering doubt to be the last word the judges heard.

  The judges filed out of the courtroom to deliberate in their private chambers. The crowd dispersed. Hack packed up at his table while Prudence waited for him.

  Norma returned to J-1 and did the same. Before he could ask the question, Norma answered it, “Now, we wait.”

  “How long?”

  “There’s no time limit on judgment,” Teague said as he helped Norma with her things.

  “I hope I didn’t ruin anything for you.” Niyati stood, but she looked small, frightened.

  “You were wonderful,” J-1 said.

  “Hack came after you with everything he had,” Norma added. “And you stood your ground.”

  Niyati looked at them. Her eyes were rheumy, fragile, worried. “I hope so.”

  J-1 hugged her and at once felt a strange emotion, something akin to sunlight. Something that wasn’t hollow. Something wonderful that returned as much as it received. Is this love? An instant later a shadow passed through him and swept the sunlight away. Before he could grasp its meaning, the four courtroom guards bound and escorted him back to his prison cell.

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  Date: 2250

  Planet Truatta

  Pocketsville/Evening

  Niyati swayed in the rocker perched by her apartment window and stared outside. The opaque bubble covering Pocketsville had darkened from daylight-gray to nighttime-black. There was still no word of the judges’ decision. In the streetlights’ waxy illumination she saw everything: the stifling Pennsylvania town of Forest Creek where she had grown up; her detached ex-husband, Pallab; the lovely, lovely Miguel Acevedo; rough-edged Sheriff Chili; Lulu; Velvet Cowgirl and her sweet daughter, Cha-Cha; Chief Dan Panther; and even her traitorous secretary, Kaye. Most of all she saw the empty hole in her that belonged to her seventeen-year-old son, Jay. “All this time and purpose,” she repeated over and over. “All this time and purpose trying to fill a hole that can never be filled.” She thought of J-1 and as she had done a million times before in the past two centuries, imagined the hole not filled, but at least covered. “Please, God,” she whispered. “Coming to you as rationally sane as anyone else, I ask only this favor. Find him innocent.” Niyati continued to stare at the streetlights as she drifted into half-sleep.

  ~~~

  Norma cuddled against Teague’s back. He was curled on his side. In the silence of their bedroom she listened to his even, tranquil breathing as he slept. Norma’s muscles ached and she was mentally spent, but unable to sleep. Too many thoughts twisted in her skull. The foremost being the lousy knowledge that even before the trial began she knew that she was in over her head. Hack had been one of Backborne’s top defense attorneys. When she had been in charge, her administration had gone after corrupt officials and had lost more than one case to him. How had I gotten into this mess? That was a simple one, she decided. I’m crazy. I’d have to be to believe that a woman from the planet of our enemies and the robot she built is going to save us. Somehow, the notion that she had loose screws comforted her. Norma draped her arm over Teague’s chest and tried to clear her mind, but the questions kept coming. If the automaton is found guilty and melted, then what? Her mind drifted down the same tortuous path she had walked a thousand times before—the murder of Broderick, Rack and Roneel. And then she understood the true, deeper reason why she had championed a disfigured, eccentric woman and her robot. The answer came from Norma’s mouth like a freshly forged dagger, “To insure that those responsible for my family’s slaughter are held accountable.”

  “What?” Teague mumbled in half-slumber.

  “Shhh,” she whispered. “Go back to sleep.” Norma lay quietly listening to his breathing in the cold, black night.

  ~~~

  J-1 paced. Though there were no windows in his cell and the hall lights never brightened above or dimmed below a dreary glow he knew it was close to dawn. He could sense it. The air seemed quieter, moister—the proverbial darkness before the dawn. Or maybe it was because in the next cell over Orson had finally fallen asleep after hours of castigation flung his way, all boiling down to one thing, “The judges are going to see that you melt, mother Earther!”

  J-1 paced. He thought about that moment at the warehouse when he stared at the GTS seeping from the cracked container. Nothing in the universe should have compelled him—a machine—to place his fingertip on the gel and bring it to his mouth. But he did. He didn’t know it until now, but in that moment he had become something beyond mechanical device. He existed. He wasn’t sure if he had been blessed or punished for making that decision, but he was scared of losing whatever it was his
actions had brought upon himself.

  J-1 paced. He thought about Niyati Bopari and Jay’s DNA seeping through him. If anyone could tell him who and what he was, it would be her. He wanted to ask her the most nagging question of all. Why had he been given existence? What was his purpose? She spoke with God. She would know. “If I’m found guilty, then what?” he whispered.

  His pondering was cut short when the lock on the hallway door turned with a lumbering cluck. Cord and Bethel entered the cellblock. Cord carried three vines. Bethel gripped an electro-rod. As their boot heels echoed toward him, J-1 heard Orson spring from his bed. Cord unlocked J-1’s cell while Bethel kept her weapon pointed at him.

  “Time to kiss it goodbye, robot,” Orson said.

  “Quiet,” Bethel replied.

  Orson grunted, but said no more. Cord entered J-1’s cell.

  “Is he right?” J-1 asked. “Have the judges made their decision?”

  Cord nodded. He placed J-1’s hands behind his back and positioned the vines on his wrists and neck. They self-tightened and connected. Cord wrapped the third vine around J-1’s ankles. They tightened around the limbs, but left enough elasticity from leg-to-leg to allow him to shuffle forward.

  Cord gripped J-1’s arm and escorted him from the cell and down the hall. Beatrice walked two paces behind with the tip of her weapon beelined on the back of J-1’s head.

  “See you in landerbyss,” Orson shouted as they left the cellblock.

  ~~~

  From the rosy-orange color reflected in Pocketsville’s bubble dome, it was clear that J-1 had been right about the time of day. It was dawn. He was being marched from the rear of Prison House by Cord and Bethel. They entered a back alley that led to the rear of the council building, which also served as the courthouse. The building was about thirty feet away.

  A hundred feet to their right, harvesters were gathered in and outside of the plant nursery. They were picking and distributing fruits and vegetables to a large group of sack-toting Truattans. Along the length-wise paths lining the nursery, children skipped and weaved toward the schoolyard located at the other end of the settlement.

  A man waiting to pick up food spotted J-1 through the space between Prison House and the building housing the courthouse. He shouted, “There’s the robot!” The others stopped their activity. Some of them rushed toward him, shaking their fists and shouting epithets. Most ran toward the courthouse. Bethel and Cord pushed J-1 forward and hustled him inside the rear door of the courthouse.

  J-1’s shackles were removed and he was escorted to his seat. Norma was at their table, waiting for him. Niyati and Teague were seated in their reserved bench seats, behind them. Montooth Hack and Prudence were sitting at their tables. The residents of Pocketsville had been checked for weapons and were packing themselves into the remaining spaces, and against the walls.

  “How’re you feeling?” Norma asked.

  J-1 studied the prune-colored semi-circles beneath her eyes; and her fingernails, which quietly clicked against the tabletop. “About the same as you.” He glanced back at Teague and Niyati. Teague smiled at him. Niyati looked worried, though she clutched his shoulder, and said, “Soon, soon…” The three judges entered from the door located near their desks.

  The room silenced.

  The judges nodded at the armed guards perched in each of the four corners and at the bailiff, Mr. Zorzi, before taking their places. The trio wore identical gold laces around their necks. Attached to the laces were small, gray pouches.

  Norma and Hack again went through their gold knife wielding ceremony.

  Afterward, the judges unhooked the pouches from around their necks. Mr. Zorzi picked up a gray container resting near his feet and carried it to them. The container had a clamped lid. Mr. Zorzi unclamped the lid and showed the inside of the container to the judges. They nodded. He displayed it to the spectators so they, too, could see that it was empty. He turned it upside down as further proof that it contained nothing and faced it upright and held the opening in front of the judges. Each deposited their pouches in it.

  Mr. Zorzi reached in and grabbed one of the pouches. He opened it, removed a round, white crystal and held it up.

  Norma smiled and squeezed J-1’s wrist. There was rumbling from some of the spectators. J-1 glanced at Montooth Hack. The muscle in Montooth’s jaw tightened.

  Mr. Zorzi reached into the bucket and plucked a second pouch. He removed the crystal and held it up: black.

  Norma exhaled a tuft of air. Sitting on the far side of Hack, Prudence caught J-1’s attention and smiled viciously at him. Hack pulled her back. Someone in the audience muttered, “Yes!” The judges and the guards eyeballed the area where the sound had come from, but they couldn’t spot the culprit.

  Mr. Zorzi reached into the bucket for the third and final pouch. J-1’s chest tightened. He felt flush. Overheated. The tips of his limbs went numb. Niyati leaned close to him and whispered, “My boy, my son, I have such wonderful plans for us. Together we’re going to make amends.”

  Mr. Zorzi pulled the deciding pouch from the bucket. As he opened it a heavy, dark pall fell over J-1. And he knew. He and Niyati would never be together. He would never have the thing he wanted most—love. He would never know why and what his purpose for existence was. He waited for the black ball.

  Mr. Zorzi plucked the crystal from the pouch and raised it. Norma whooped. Niyati shouted, “Prayers have been answered!” She hugged J-1 from behind. Montooth Hack pounded his desk once, hard. J-1 was stunned. It took him seconds to realize what had happened. Mr. Zorzi had removed a white crystal.

  His joy was rapidly sobered by several shouts of “No!” from the trial watchers.

  A woman yelled, “Melt the traitor!”

  Someone else yelled, “It’s over. Let him be.”

  A man stood and shook his fist at J-1. “That thing is a terrorist!”

  “And the crazy hag is a spy!” another man shouted.

  Prudence grinned at J-1. Hack quickly gathered his things. The middle judge pounded his stone on the desktop. Two of the guards rushed to the most vocal observers and dragged them from the courtroom. The other two guards pointed their electro-rods around the room, but the crowd grew louder and angrier. Mr. Zorzi moved closer to the judges to protect them. Six more guards rushed in and started hauling people away. Benches were overturned. Mr. Zorzi rushed the judges out the door they had entered in. Someone took a swipe at one of the guards. Another guard fired her electro-rod at the man and stung him in the arm. He yelped. Someone tackled the guard who fired the ray. A man tossed a yellow fruit at J-1. It smashed against his neck. Another one hit Niyati in the back. She moaned.

  “How dare you!” J-1 headed toward the man who threw the fruit at Niyati.

  Norma clamped his arm. “Let it go. Do you want to make things worse for yourself?”

  Niyati said, “She’s right, my child. We’re going to prove to them that we’re here to help. With these plans—” she patted a pocket on her wrap “—and your aid, we’re going to implement the weapon that will give them back their planet.”

  J-1 wasn’t sure he wanted to help the Truattans. They were as bad as Earthlings. But he looked in Niyati’s eyes and felt something warm, something accepting in them. He took a deep breath. “I don’t understand, but if you think it’s the right thing to do…”

  “I do.” She hugged him. “You have a lot to learn about the human heart, but that’s my job. To teach you.” She glanced up. “Right, God?”

  Mr. Zorzi rushed out of the door he had escorted the judges into, and motioned to both attorney tables. “Everyone this way,” he said. “Hurry!”

  Hack and Prudence raced to him. J-1 gripped Niyati’s arm and walked protectively beside her as she lumbered toward Mr. Zorzi, who was motioning Hack and Prudence through the door. Teague stayed with Norma, helping her shove papers into her briefcase. A low, thunderous ripping noise fell over the courthouse like concrete sludge. There was a rush of cold. J-1 thought it was ano
ther ice storm.

  A blinding explosion.

  The courthouse shook. Smoke and pulverized rubble choked the air. The door where Mr. Zorzi, Hack and Prudence were about to enter was gone. Prudence’s upper torso was lying on top of Mr. Zorzi, who was motionless. There was a bloody mush that used to be Hack.

  The wall holding the back door no longer existed. Beyond was the outdoors. Snow tumbled from the sky. A portion of the opaque weather bubble that had covered Pocketsville flapped up and down. J-1 eyed Niyati. She had a few scratches, but looked okay. Though his ears buzzed from the blast, behind him he could hear others wailing. He turned. The other three courthouse walls had trembled, but were intact. People were lying on the ground—some dead, some moaning. Others rushed to help the injured. Norma was looking around wild-eyed. Teague was grasping Norma’s briefcase and studying the chaos. In the distance another blast. Those in the courthouse still standing, ducked. The town bell rang wildly. Another explosion. More screams, but no more bells ringing.

  A sentry ran into the courthouse to Norma and said, “We’re under attack!” She looked at him as if he were an illusion. “Commander, there’s been an attack!”

  Norma shook her head once with force. Clarity returned to her eyes. “I need details. Quick.”

  “It’s all coming from the air. There’re three or four battleliners. They’re dropping WarBots.”

  “Excellent!” Niyati said. “That’s what we want.”

  “Did you have anything to do with this?” Norma screamed.

  Niyati took a step back. “Of course not.”

  J-1 placed his arm in front of her for protection. There was another, closer, explosion.

  Niyati pulled out the plans from her pocket, glanced at J-1 and said to Norma, “I need about twenty minutes alone with J-1 and then get us to a working WarBot if you want to defeat them.”

  “What the tradshit are you talking about?”

  “Just arrange it,” Niyati said. “We haven’t got time to waste.”