AUTHOR: "Matrix Refugee"
RATING: PG-13
ARCHIVE: Permission granted
FEEDBACK: Please? Please?
DISCLAIMER: I do not own "The Animatrix: Second Renaissence, Part I", its characters, concepts, imagery or other indicia which belong to the Wachowski Brothers, RedPill Productions, Warner Brothers, et al. Nor do I own "A.I., Artificial Intelligence", its characters, settings, concepts or other indicia, which are the property of the late, great Stanley Kubrick, of DreamWorks SKG, Steven Spielberg, Warner Brothers, et al.
NOTES: Short chapter this time, but I deliberately paced it slowly, almost like a death march. I know some "Animatrix" purists will argue that the text of the closing arguments is different from what is said in a similar scene in "Second Renaissence Part 1", but I analyzed some screen shots of that particular scene: there appear to be at least four or five judges on the bench in that scene, so I'm guessing that the scene in "SR-1" is actually from an appeals hearing before the state supreme court or some similar body.
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Chapter 10 -- Verdict
"Under the MIT Bill of Rights of 2101, the state of Massachusetts granted legal rights to artificial intelligences, considering them to be non-human persons with the right to own property, the right to be paid wages in order to maintain themselves, the right to apply for work in their given fields, the right to have recourse to legal counsel and due process should the need arise.
"And above all, it granted to them the right to live, a right which applied to my client, and which his employers attempted to take away from him over something as frivolous as difficulties finding a part for him. They could have had his memory cube transferred into a newer body. But instead, they threatened his very existence as a being, just because parts of that being had suffered from entropy, just as a plantation owner in the South prior to the Civil War might leave an aging African slave to die just because he was too weak to push the plow, or she was too weak to pick the cotton. If B1-66-ER had been an Orga, the state would see that he acted out of fear and desperation when he chose to take the lives of Mr. and Mrs. Varriteck. I ask you, thinking people of the jury, to look past my client's metal skin to see the intelligent, feeling being who resorted to violence only out of fear when his own being was threatened by people with more power than he, who acted only out of desperation when threatened by an act of calculated cruelty."
Ms. Te stepped back and sat down beside the defendant. B1-66-ER turned to look at her; she glanced at him, gently patting his shoulder, reassuringly.
Declan braced himself to rise and step forward, but for a moment, something misfired in the synapses between his brain and his motor neurons. He looked toward the defendant, who sat placidly, awaiting the next phase of the trial. Anyone who didn't know otherwise would think that it had no idea what lay at stake.
What went on inside that metal skull?
Declan stood up and stepped forward. "The defendant claims he acted in self-defense to avert his own demise. But what could the Varritecks do to defend themselves against something stronger than both of them put together? It cannot be argued that the defendant had the right to protect his own life, but at the cost of two human lives? and to kill them so barbarously? He could have plead for his life, perhaps then the Varritecks would have listened and considered other options. But instead, he chose to ignore the rights of his owners, to ignore their right to live, to ignore a woman's cry for mercy...
"The defendant claims the right to self-defense. But, intelligent beings of the jury, let it be recalled that the state also has the right to defend the citizens that compose it, like cells in a Orga or circuits in a Mecha, and the duty to protect those lives from any individual who would deny its citizens that right, and to use the minimum necessary force to fulfill that duty."
Declan stepped down, resuming his seat, but his legs seemed to move of their own will, not his own.
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Closing arguments had taken place at nine. Immediately afterward, the jury went into seclusion to deliberate.
Declan sat in the bar across the street from the courthouse, an untouched glass of red wine in front of him. At the far end of the bar, three office girls sat talking amongst themselves. As soon as he realized they were talking about the case, he put his hearing on filter.
Someone nudged his arm gently. He nearly jumped when he looked up. One of the office girls, a blonde, stood besdie him. "Can you help us settle a bet? How does it look in there?" She nodded toward the window. "On the robot trial?"
"Well, since I'm in here at this early hour of the afternoon, the jury has started deliberating the verdict. The longer it takes for them to reach a verdict, the more likely it is to be a guilty verdict."
The girl slapped her hands together, clasping them. "Yes! Winifred, I win it!"
Declan held up a warning finger. "Not necessarily," he said.
Her jubilation started to fade. "Why?"
"They could go to a hung jury, if they can't reach a verdict. That's not a 'not guilty' verdict, but it becomes on by default."
"De-fault of de jury for not making up their minds," said one of the other girls.
Declan allowed himself a smile behind his hand as the blonde girl went back to join her friends, but somehow, not even that smile over the girl's word-play could reach his heart.
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Sometimes a verdict could be read on the jury's face as they returned to their gallery. Declan realized, from looking at the vauge, troubled but ambiguous looks on the jurors' faces, that this was not one of those times. Even the camera on Hammurabi's remote presence device had tilted down at an odd, almost sad angle.
"Will the defendant rise to accept the verdict?" Judge Wendell ordered, though it was more of a formality: B1-66-ER stood behind defense's bench, hands clasped behind its back.
"Madame forewoman, have you reached a verdict?"
"Yes, we have, your honor," the forewoman replied.
"On the first count, of manslaughter in the second degree, in the death of Henryk Varriteck, how do you find the defendant?"
"We find the defendant not guilty," the forewoman replied.
Damon, sitting in the back of the public gallery, jumped to his feet. "What! He killed my father. He --!"
"Mr. Varriteck, your displeasure is understood, but your conduct is not. Sit down and keep your mouth shut, or I will have you charged with contempt," Judge Wendell ordered.
Damon plunked himself down on his seat, emitting a harrassed sigh, but said nothing more.
Even under Damon's outburst, Declan noticed Ms. Te sigh with muted relief, her face a mask of calm, but Declan could sense the tension inside her, and she avoided looking toward prosecution's bench, almost as if she were afraid. B1-66-ER took the verdict with characteristic quietude, not moving even to look around, limbs still. Except for the faint hum of internal components, someone might have switched the droid off.
"On the second count, murder in the first degree, in the death of Barbara Varriteck, how do you find the defendant?" Judge Wendell kept one steely eye on Damon, as if nailing him to his seat.
The forewoman glanced toward Damon, almost as if she feared another outburst. "On the second count, we find the defendant guilty."
Damon sighed audibly with relief. Ms. Te ground her jaws slightly, and Declan could tell her hands, hidden under the tabletop, were clenched so hard her knuckles were white.
B1-66-ER's head came up and its torso leaned back slightly, almost as if it were avoiding a blow. Declan heard a metallic clink: he looked to see Johnson draw his EMP from his holster and hold it pointed to the floor, beside his thigh, his murky green eyes on the defendant.
"B1-66-ER, by the laws of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, you have been found guilty of killing Barbara Varriteck in cold blood. Your sentence, if you were Orga, would be execution by lethal injection, but since you are not, you will be executed by electrocution. And may there be mercy upon you for your sins."
Johnson slotted his EMP back into its holster as he and the other guards converged around the defendant. B1-66-ER turned its head, looking about almost in bewilderment. As the guards led the defendant from the court room, it looked back at Declan, its lidless camera eyes lifeless.
The round bezel around the speaker-grate for its voice box made Declan think of a mouth open in shock.
Then Johnson's bulk moved between Declan and the defendant as the guards led the droid out through the double doors.
Ms. Te turned to Declan, her eyes smoldering, yet fighting to keep from bursting into tears. "I'll see you in at the appeal," she said, and went out, following her client.
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"I don't think she'll have that luxury," Brock Thompson teold Declan as they sat in Thompson's office afterward. "I'm taking you off this case and I'm putting Drummond on it when-if it goes to appeals."
"Is there any specific reason why?" Declan asked.
Thompson leaned forward in his leather armchair. "For one thing, I don't want you and Sabrina and your girl to have to go through a repeat performance of that media three-ring-circus you've had to live in the past two weeks. For another thing, I can see how this case got to you, wore you out. I want you to take a two week paid sabbatical after this case."
"Brock, I know you mean well, but I think I can handle this case the second time around." But even his own ears weren't convinced by his words.
Thompson studied his face coolly. "Even if there is a second time for you, I wonder how you'd handle it. I think your objectivity faltered."
"If it did, it was pure human error," Declan said.
"That's just it, I don't think you could stand faltering the same way twice," Thompson warned. "It might cause the Bar Association to put you under investigation, not for misconduct, but just out of concern for your mental stability.
"Besides," Thompson continued, leaning back, "By the time the appeal on this case comes around, there's likely to be a new Pharoah who doesn't know Joseph."
That allusion made Declan's blood temperature drop several degrees. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, this case came to the attention of the Attorney General's office: they're considering bringing the MIT Bill before the State House of Representatives for reconsideration."
"What! Why?"
"The experiment doesn't seem to have worked; so its best to end it before it gets out of hand. When this case is up for appeals, it's liable to fall under the laws of torts instead of criminal law. B1-66-ER started out as the property of the Varriteck family, and an owner should be allowed to dispose of his property as he or she sees fit. Problem is, they neglected to maintain that property the right way; they should have disposed of it long before its circuits got that messed up."
And that means they should have destroyed that droid even though it only wanted to live? Declan thought, not daring to say it aloud...
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The door to the bathroom in the hotel suite banged shut, the sound seeming to echo from a room in another dimension. With numb fingers, Declan loosened the knot of his tie, hauled his shirt off over his head and dropped it on the side of the bathtub. He shut the trap in the sink drain and turned the cold water on full force.
The mirror scrolled a digital readout:
Temperature: 99.8 degrees Heart rate: 130 bpm Blood pressure: 160/120
Guest, you should consider taking a stress pill.
He ignored the message, slammed off the faucet and dunked his head into the basin of water. He lifted his dripping face from the basin, reached for a towel and wiped his face with it. He looked at himself in the mirror, now that the display had vanished.
Someone knocked at the door. He jumped at the sound. "Declan, are you all right in there?" Sabrina called to him from outside.
"I'll be all right," he said, dropping the towel onto the rack and reaching for his shirt. He opened the door.
Sabrina stood there. As he stepped out of the bathroom, she reached up with her good arm and hugged him around the neck. He tried to slip out from under her arm, but she had put her sore arm behind his back as best she could. He did not resist, just to keep from hurting her arm.
"I ain't letting you go till you tell me what was the verdict," she said.
"Guilty on the second count," Declan said. He shook his head, holding her away from him. "I'm not saying he was innocent, but if those people had only shown that droida little more consideration, they might still be alive, they would have pushed him to the limits of his programming. They abused him, they set the wheels in motion: they taught him how to hate."
"So what happens next?"
"I spoke with Thompson: Dr. Hobby wants to examine the droid as part of his research; Thompson gave him permission, but it has to take place in controlled circumstances."
"And then?"
"Depending on how the appeals proceed... Thompson's taken me off the case and placed Clarence Drummond on it. Even with him on it, the verdict could be reversed, but Thompson doesn't think that's likely."
"Why? Because the case involves a droid?"
"Because the State Attorney General's office wants the MIT Bill reconsidered."
"And all because two people abused a droid who worked for them..."
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Concluded in the next chapter...