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The Companion: Part 58

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I have just sworn the oath, on the Bible.  I don’t consider myself to be religious, but I could not be bothered to enter into a discussion about it.  I want this to be over as quickly as possible.  Here comes the first question.  At least, I think it does.  I wish he would stop rambling and get to the point.  What has been the nature of my relationship with Kelvin?  I am talking now.  I am saying something.  I don’t really know what I am saying.  The nature of my relationship with him is that I agreed to join his mission to colonise a new planet.  Don’t ask me why I did that, because I did not previously know him, but I did agree to it.  We were then lovers, briefly, for a period of six weeks while we in transit from Earth.  Our time together was physically passionate and I thought I was falling in love with him, but it was very difficult to know whether I did love him because he was so difficult to get to know.  Once I heard about his so-called “companion”, I experienced a feeling of repulsion and did not want to be with him anymore.    This seemed to wear off eventually, probably because I foolishly allowed myself to forget what a big part this “companion” had played in his life.  I simply assumed that he would want his partner in life to be a flesh-and-blood woman rather than a machine manufactured to look like a woman. 

            Here comes another question.  I suppose I should be paying attention, instead of scanning the public gallery to see how many people I can recognise.  There is that awful Vallance woman.  She has been told off by the usher for taking notes.  Every time there is a recess, she goes outside and scribbles frantically.  I am looking for The Machine, to see if she will still glower at me, but she is not there for some reason.  Kelvin seems remarkably composed in the dock (is that what it is called?)   I wonder if they will actually put him in prison, if he is found guilty.   The next question is: do I think that Kelvin was glad when news of the invasion arrived, because he knew it would mean conflict?  Yes, I am convinced he was.  For a start, he was the only person who wasn’t surprised.  He reacted as if being invaded was an ordinary, everyday occurrence.  In other words, he didn’t react at all.  He just started talking about something called “Plan K-13”.  I asked him what “Plan K-13” was, and he said that it would be revealed on a need-to-know basis.  I asked him why it was called “K-13”, and he said it had to be called something.  I told him it sounded like something out of an unpublished novel by John Le Carré,  and he thanked me.  I didn’t tell him that the reason why the hypothetical novel would remain unpublished is because it was crap.   

            Now he is asking me if I knew anything about Operation Meat-grinder.  No, I didn’t.  My duties had nothing to do with the fighting.  Oh, that’s the end.  That didn’t last as long as I feared.  I can’t go home, however.  I have to hang around in case I am wanted again. 

*

            ‘How should I address you?’

            ‘Most politely.’

            ‘I mean, by what form of address?  What title?’

            ‘How about “Mrs Stark”?’

            ‘Very well.  Mrs Stark, what was your…’

            ‘Before you proceed with your examination in chief, Mr Greenwood, I wish to raise a point of order.’

            ‘I beg your pardon?’

            ‘I wish to question your right to examine me as a witness.’  The judges lean forward and listen more attentively.  Greenwood looks surprised and annoyed.  Those people in the public gallery who have been paying attention start muttering to each other.  Judge Lansakaranayake intervenes.

            ‘Mrs Stark, could you explain to the court what it is to wish to question?’

            ‘Your Honour, it occurs to me that, under the legal system in Mr Greenwood’s country, he could not ask me any questions, even if he wanted to.’

            ‘Why not?’

            ‘Because I am an android.  I am not a natural person, in the eyes of the law of England and Wales.  According to Mr Greenwood’s legal system, I am merely a machine.  If he wants to know anything about me, if he wants disclosure of anything that my data acquisitions systems may have recorded, he can serve a court order against my legal owner.  But he can’t question me.’  Greenwood’s face falls.  He knows I’m right.  Lansakaranayake looks puzzled.  Gonzales looks amused.  The two judges exchange a words which no-one else can hear. 

            ‘Will Mr Greenwood and Miss Johnson please join us in our chambers, please?  Mr and Mrs Stark are each dismissed until further notice.’

*

Violet’s point was upheld.  We are making the law governing this trial up as we go along, but the assumption is that, where no law has been codified by the colonists, we will fall back on English Law.  Greenwood had already committed himself to that principle and, in this regard, English law is very clear: androids are not legal entities, except inasmuch as they incur liability for their legal owners.  Greenwood tried to argue that Violet was capable of being treated as an independent person, but the judges said that he could only appeal to the written law of this colony if he wanted things done differently from the way they are in England.  No law on this subject has been passed in the colony.  In desperation, Greenwood asked if Kelvin could produce his certificate of ownership of Violet.  This was duly produced.  Greenwood then observed that Kelvin and Violet are married, and asked how he could marry something that wasn’t a person.  The judges asked what relevance the validity of Kelvin’s marriage had to the matter in hand.  Greenwood could not answer that question.  The judges conferred for about two minutes, and came back with a joint decision that Greenwood did not have a leg to stand on.  He could apply to the court (subject to various exemptions) for orders to obtain from Kelvin the disclosure of Violet’s data, but he could not put Violet back in the witness box.  I asked if Violet would be allowed back in the public gallery, and received permission for her to continue watching the trial. 

            There is still some time left today, and so we are re-convening after lunch. 

*

Greenwood’s next witness is a prisoner called Darren Cartwright.  He looks well-nourished and healthy enough, apart from a rather appalling case of acne.  Greenwood starts questioning him about what he saw and heard of his fellow invaders being scalded in the concrete tank that Kelvin ordered to be built.  I interrupt, and read a pre-prepared statement which concedes all the factual  points that Greenwood has been trying to make and adds that they are not in dispute.  It includes everything about the poisoned food,  the drinks that had been adulterated with methanol, the booby-traps, and the cutting off of the water supply.   When I finish, Greenwood thanks me unconvincingly, and closes with a few questions to Cartwright about how he is being treated.  He says that the prison is boring but comfortable enough and the food is to his liking. 

            We are getting close to the point I have been dreading.  I just hope we have done enough preparation.  I hope Kelvin remembers my instructions and does as he has been told. 

*

Kelvin gives his evidence from the dock.

            Kelvin’s atheism re-opens the question of what he will swear on.  After dismissing all the religious books on the usher’s shelf, Kelvin asks if there are any secular titles.  The usher peers at each spine in turn.

            ‘There is just one,’ he reports, with resignation.

            ‘What is it?’ Kelvin asks.

            ‘It is a copy of Whitaker’s Almanac for the year 2125.’

            ‘That’ll do.’

            ‘What?’ Greenwood exclaims.  For once, I agree with him.

            ‘What did you say earlier, Professor Gonzales?’ Kelvin asks, addressing the bench.  ‘It has to be a book the contents of which you are broadly familiar with, in the truth of which you have a strong conviction, and whose principles you believe should be upheld.’

            ‘Yes, Dr Stark, I did say that.  Are you sure that Whitaker’s Almanac satisfies all those criteria in your case?’

            ‘I am certain of it.’

            ‘What principles does Whitaker’s Almanac set out?’

            ‘Democracy, for a start, and accountability.  It gives you the address of every member of parliament and holder of public office in the United Kingdom – in Mr Greenwood’s country.  I will swear on a book that attests to the accountability of Mr Greenwood’s employer.’  Gonzales and Lansakaranayake look doubtful, but they hold a brief conference which is inaudible to the rest of the court. 

            ‘Very well,’ indicates Gonzales to the usher, with deadly seriousness, ‘You may proceed with the taking of the oath.’

            ‘You are Kelvin Stark,” asserts Greenwood, after this (in his opinion) travesty has been played out. 

            ‘That is my name,’ confirms Kelvin, with a slight emphasis on the word name.  Oh, no.  The examination in chief is just starting, and he is already forgetting his lines.   Come on, Kelvin: pull yourself together.  

            ‘What office do you claim to occupy in the administration of this community?’  The question is obviously framed to be as offensive as possible without breaching the decorum of the courtroom.

            ‘The title of King was conferred upon me by the parliament which we refer to as the Assembly.  I attempted to abdicate from that position after the war was over.  This had been my stated intention when I accepted the title and the office of Commander-in-Chief of the Armed Forces.  That abdication was not accepted by the Assembly.  It therefore seems that I am still King.’  Kelvin speaks more quietly than he usually does.  He must remember some of what I told him.

            ‘You must have been very gratified to find that you were still regarded as King.’

            ‘No. In fact, it was a pain in the arse.’  A ripple of laughter moves round the courtroom.  Greenwood is annoyed to see that even some of the jurors he selected himself are laughing.  He glances expectantly at the judges, hoping that they will reprimand the accused for having used the word arse in court, but they say nothing.  I am wondering whether Greenwood knows that it was Judge Gonzales himself who suggested that Kelvin be King and not simply Commander-in-Chief.

            ‘I believe, Mr Stark, that…’

            ‘Doctor Stark.’  Greenwood pauses for a moment and looks at the ceiling, but he has not started gripping the table-top yet.  I suppose he is wondering how many of these blasted colonists have doctorates.

            ‘Dr Stark,’ he resumes, ‘I believe that, after this assembly, you affected the title of Field Marshal.’

            ‘If you really insist on putting it as offensively as that, then yes, I did.’

            ‘Did you have any previous military experience?’

            ‘None.’

            ‘Then how could you do it?’  With an air of wearied resignation, Kelvin picks up the copy of Whitaker’s Almanac that the usher has absent-mindedly left on the partition next to his chair, and turns to the page described in the index under Royal Family, Military Titles.

            ‘The King,’ he reads aloud, by which he means Henry IX.  ‘Lord High Admiral of the United Kingdom, Field Marshal, Marshal of the Royal Air Force. Admiral of the Fleet, Royal Australian Navy. Field Marshal, Australian Military Forces, Marshal of the Royal Australian Air Force.  Admiral of the Fleet, Royal New Zealand…’

            ‘Yes, yes, thank you, Dr Stark,’ Greenwood interrupts.  ‘What, precisely, is your point?’

            ‘Yes, I was wondering that,’ adds Gonzales, and so am I.  

            ‘It is the role of a leader to give his or her followers something to look up to and admire – something that inspires confidence.  If I was to give orders to soldiers, then clearly I had to outrank them, and the easiest way to ensure that was to take the rank of Field Marshal.’

            ‘But on what basis did you expect to give the orders?  I understand that some of the men you commanded had military experience, whereas you had none.’

            ‘Some of the women I commanded had military experience as well.  I accept that.  There were three reasons why I was in command and they were not.  Firstly, it was my idea for us to travel to this planet in the first place.  That, I felt, burdened me with a certain amount of responsibility.  Secondly, although I had no previous military experience, I did have considerable experience of fighting fascists and Nazis.  What we were up against was not just a military force: it was a political and psychological one, and in this I do claim to speak as an expert.  Lastly, I believed that the conflict  had the potential to last a long time and to involve the entire colony.  The economic and strategic implications of this are something else on which I claim to speak as an expert.  Adolf Hitler said precisely one thing with which I agree.’  Oh shit damn hell bugger.  This is not going well.  This is not what we rehearsed.

            ‘And what, may I ask, is that?’

            ‘People believe in that which is seen to be strongly believed by others.  For this reason, and because I believed in our eventual victory, I found it necessary and desirable to behave like a victor, even when we encountered set-backs.’

            ‘Set-backs?  Would you describe what happened to Major Downing and his men as a set-back?’

            ‘In military terms, yes.  In human terms, it was an appalling tragedy, and a waste of life.’

            ‘Would you have conducted this operation differently if you had had the chance?’

            ‘That is a hypothetical question and I do not propose to waste the court’s time by answering it.’  Greenwood puts down the paper he is holding and looks angry. 

            ‘Dr Stark, I am trying to give you the opportunity to show the court that you are a human being after all, and not the unbalanced despot whose character one infers from the accounts we have heard of recent activities on this planet.  This chance is one that you seem determined to throw away.’

            ‘Well let me reciprocate, Mr Greenwood, by offering you the chance to spell out what it is that I am supposed to have done which is so heinous.  I landed on this planet with the knowledge and permission of a civil, constitutional, democratic government.  My peaceful existence here and that of my fellow colonists was rudely interrupted by invaders who were trying to rape, kill, maim and torture us.  Some of those invaders were shot.  Some of them were poisoned.  Some of them were bayonetted.  Some of them were burned alive.  Some of them were drowned.  Some of these actions, I deeply regret to say, incurred collateral damage.  In other words, in order to prevent the loss of innocent civilian lives, I had to kill some innocent civilians.  I have never made a secret of that.  It makes me desperately sad, but not criminally culpable.

            ‘I am the King.  This is the most unexpected thing that has ever happened to me in my life, and I must admit that I still find it impossible to comprehend sometimes.  However, when I attempted to stand down, the people would not let me.  It was my application to the Alpha Project that got us all here, and I suppose some of them see me as a symbol of their hope for peace and security in the future. In spite of unfavourable odds, every major undertaking that this colony has embarked on has succeeded, and that makes me very proud.

            ‘If I am a King (which I am) then I belong to the least violent royal dynasty in the history of the human race.  Monarchy on this planet was constitutional from the outset.  My position was conferred upon me by a popular assembly – a point which it took the United Kingdom many centuries to reach.

            ‘If the worst thing that you can accuse me of is that I shot a known and dedicated fascist when he did not have his machine-gun in his hands, or that I ordered the sinking of a ship that killed some of my own people, then I challenge you to go to the rulers of any state back on your planet and insist that they govern in the same just and pacific way you seem to be espousing here.

            ‘The people of this planet, though they sincerely wish to remain on good terms with your government, are not subordinate to that government.  Even considering recent advances in technology, you are too far away for your wishes to be taken into account here on a daily basis, and your troops were absent when we were in our hour of need.  Your presence here now is wearisome, obstructive and superfluous.  We will go our own way and, though I cannot promise that we won’t make mistakes, we will attempt to learn from yours, of which there have been a great many.  I daresay the agents of your government committed more errors in one day of the First Battle of the Somme than I have in my entire time as Commander.

            ‘Do you have any more questions for me?  If you do, I beseech you to be as brief as possible.’        Kelvin stops speaking, and the public gallery breaks into loud applause.  Some of them are on their feet.

            The disturbance is only slightly shortened by the two Judges calling for order.  When order is finally restored, there is a pause in which nobody says anything, and then Judge Gonzales asks Greenwood if he has anything further.  I can see indecision in Greenwood’s face.  On one hand, he has succeeded sooner than he expected in getting Kelvin to stand on his dignity but, on the other, Kelvin seems to have endeared himself to most of those present.  Gonzales presses him and he reluctantly admits that he has finished.  The judges turn to me.

            ‘The defence rests, Your Honours.’  

            Now it is all up to the jury.

*

The jury has been deliberating for four days, and the foreman (one of the colonists) has asked for them to be released.  The jury is split, eight to four in favour of “not guilty”.   How the hell are we going to sort this out?  The only person who seems gratified by this situation is Greenwood.  

Permalink 1 comment (latest comment by Joanna Crosby, Tuesday, 13 Sept 2011, 21:16)
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The Companion: Part 57

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The trial is about to start.  The hearing is in front of two judges: Professor Gonzales and Doctor Lansakaranayake.  Mr Greenwood appears for the prosecution.  I appear for the defence.  The accused is Kelvin Stark.  We have agreed that our side will not attach any titles to him. 

            A recent but very surprising development is that this trial is being heard before a jury.  Look at them: six members of the crew of Greenwood’s ship, and six colonists.  The crew members were picked by me, and the colonists were picked by Greenwood.  He rejected dozens, including anybody who had served in Kelvin’s army, and anybody who had been wounded or suffered a bereavement at the hands of the invaders.  The crew members are all in uniform.  The others are in what I would call “colonial casual”: handmade leather shoes with visible seams, trousers covered in multi-coloured patches, hand-knitted jumpers.  I have made Kelvin swear solemnly that at no time during these proceedings will he turn up in his military uniform.  Once I had got his agreement on that, I started to feel a bit more relaxed about our prospects. 

            Here comes Kelvin, wearing a kind of Graham Greene-style linen suit, narrow bronze-coloured tie and brown shoes (polished by Chandra, as usual).  His choice of clothes is rather unseasonable: it has been raining solidly for two days here.  There is a slight smell emanating from the colonists’ waxed coats which hang at the back of the hall.  Kelvin is escorted into the dock by one of the ushers, who is an employee of the local council, and a colonist.  The courtroom has an improvised feel about it, which is not surprising in this town which does not have a name yet.  The public gallery is a set of wooden benches on a rostrum, covered in cushions that people have brought themselves.  It is packed.  The dock, the empty witness box, the jury and the judges’ bench are divided from the rest of the room by panelled and varnished wooden partitions.  Greenwood is wearing a pin-striped suit, and the judges both wear black, academic gowns.  Before the trail, I had thought for one awful moment that Greenwood would insist on wig and gown for counsel, but we have been spared that. 

            Now we stand.  Has Kelvin remembered to stand?  Yes, he has.  There is some uncertain shuffling among the audience.  The judges seat themselves, and so does every-one else.  This court is now in session.  Greenwood stands again, and begins his opening speech.  After a few minutes, I must admit that I am slightly disappointed.  It is a bit predictable and tedious compared to what I was expecting from him.  At last, he is about to call his first witness, Samantha Dale.  I remember her from when I had to prosecute Pamela Collins and Prudence Tadlow during the voyage.  I lost that case.  Miss Dale is now taking the oath, on the Bible.  Here comes Greenwood’s first question.

            ‘Miss Dale, is it true that, during the conflict which happened here about two years ago, you were captured by a group of armed men?’

            ‘Yes, and repeatedly raped, and threatened, and locked up.’

            ‘Yes, indeed.  I am sure we all feel a sense of repugnance at the way you were treated.  I commend you for your courage in coming through that ordeal.  Now, at any time while you were being held by these men, were you taken from your home on the island known as I-13 and put on board a boat?’

            ‘No.’

            ‘No?’

            ‘It was a huge great ship, not a boat.’

            ‘Indeed.  A ship.  Can you tell me what happened to end your time on that ship?’

            ‘The fucker sank.’

            ‘Er.  Just so.  Please remember that you are in a courtroom, Miss Dale.  Has anybody ever told you how the ship came to sink?’

            ‘No.  Nobody ever bothers to tell me anything.’

            ‘Well I can tell you now, without fear of contradiction, that the ship was sunk deliberately, under the order of Kelvin Stark.’

            ‘King Kelvin, you mean?’

            ‘I’m sorry?’

            ‘You talk about him as if he was just some bloke: Kelvin Stark: it makes him sound like a teacher or an estate agent, but he’s the king.  He is King Kelvin the First.’

            ‘Er, indeed.  Could you answer the question, please, Miss Dale?’

            ‘What question?’

            ‘How do you feel about the fact that you were subjected to shipwreck and possible drowning under the orders of – er – King Kelvin?’

            ‘I am fine with it.’

            ‘You are fine with it?’

            ‘That’s what I just said.’

            ‘But your life was put at risk.  Many of your fellow passengers drowned.’

            ‘We were prisoners, not passengers.’

            ‘Many of your fellow prisoners were drowned.’

            ‘And raped, and beaten to death in front of their loved ones, raped again after they were dead, and then the loved ones shot.’

            ‘Miss Dale, do you accept that you were at severe risk of drowning when Kelvin Stark issued the order for the bow doors of your ship to be opened in order to make it sink?  Yes or No?’

            ‘Yes, but I’d…’

            ‘Thank you, Miss Dale.  You are dismissed.’

            ‘But I…’

            Judge Gonzales intervenes.  Samantha Dale leaves the witness box.  Jessica Springer is called.  She also swears on the Bible, though what she is saying is so quiet that only the clerk and the judges can hear her.  Greenwood looks concerned, and somewhat abashed.

            ‘Miss Springer, how would you feel about the news – which is not in dispute – that you were subjected to drowning at the order of Kelvin Stark?’

            ‘I think he’s a bastard.  A total bastard.’

            ‘I see.  Why do you say that, Miss Springer?’

            ‘He should have killed us all.  We don’t want to live.  We were defiled.  We were polluted and tainted with their filth.  We can never, ever be clean.  We want to die, die, die.  It is the only way we will ever find relief.  We were their playthings.  The dignity of human beings, callously and ingeniously abused for mere sport and entertainment.  I would have killed myself by now, but I can’t think of a method of suicide that would make me dead enough to forget what they did.  Are there degrees of deadness?  What is the worst?  Burning?  Acid?  Explosives?  What?’

            ‘Er, your Lordships, I suggest that this witness should be, er…’

            Some-one appears to escort Miss Springer from the witness box.  I can’t see who it is at first.  She turns round.  Oh, it’s Violet.  Jessica seems remarkably docile in her company.  Violet steers her towards the back of the room and waits with her until a medical orderly arrives.  I wonder who is looking after Ed while this is going on.  After a suitable interval, Greenwood continues.

            ‘Your Honours, I call, er, the witness known as Moon-Flower.’ He pronounces the name as two separate words.  Moon.  Flower. 

            Moonflower appears in court much as she had done at the Assembly two years before.  She is still barefoot.  She had an intricate array of patterns painted with henna on her hands and arms.  She spends a great deal of time outdoors, so I  am told,  and the dye complements the tones of her tanned skin very well.  She floats airily across the floor, her voile billowing behind her, into the witness box.

The usher picks up the Bible but falters after just one step towards her.  There is something about Moonflower’s appearance which suggests strongly that she is not an adherent of any orthodox religious faith.  A hurried conversation begins between the judges, Greenwood, the clerk and the  ushers.  One of the ushers begins rummaging in a small bookcase in the corner of the room.  It has various books in it which were selected before the proceedings to represent as much of the canon of human belief as could conveniently be fitted into a small space.  It looks like something from a hospital waiting room.  The usher returns with a faintly hopeful expression on his face.  In his hand he holds a rather battered paperback which turns out to be a copy of the I-Ching.  He offers it to Moonflower.

            ‘What’s this?’ she asks.  She sounds as if she is enquiring about a dish in a Mongolian restaurant.

            ‘You have to swear an oath to tell the truth.’

            ‘I know that, but why are you giving me this book?’

            ‘It is customary to swear the oath on a book.’

            ‘What is that?’

            ‘It’s the I-Ching.’

            ‘What’s that?  I think I may have heard of it somewhere.’  Judge Gonzales interrupts.

            ‘Miss Moonflower – ’

            ‘My name is just Moonflower, Judge.’

            ‘Sorry.  Moonflower, are you telling me that you have never read the book that the usher has just now offered to you?’

            ‘That’s right.  I don’t read all that much, to be honest.’

            ‘Is there a book upon which you are prepared to swear the oath?’

            ‘What sort of book does it have to be?’

            ‘It has to be one the contents of which you are broadly familiar with, in the truth of which you have a strong conviction, and whose principles you believe should be upheld, to the point where you honestly believe that you regard it as a source of guidance in your own life,’ intones Judge Gonzales.  Moonflower’s face lights up with delight.

            ‘Let’s use this!’ She takes something from an emerald-green, bejewelled silk handbag.

            ‘What is that?  Please show it to me,’ asks Gonzales.

            By squinting hard, I can just about catch the title of the book.  I gather that Kelvin does as well.  Kelvin takes out his handkerchief and pretends to blow his nose.  Out of the corner of my eye, I think I can see him stuff the handkerchief into his mouth.   Greenwood looks up and seems to wonder if Heaven can still look down upon him in this accursed place.  Another hasty conversation takes place, and then Moonflower solemnly swears to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth on a copy of Catcher In The Rye by J. D. Salinger.

            ‘You spoke at an assembly some months ago, I believe.’

            ‘Yes, that’s right.’

            ‘What was the subject on which you spoke?’

            ‘We were trying to decide what to do about the people who had invaded our planet.’

            ‘And what was your contribution to that discussion?’

            ‘I was saying how I thought that we ought to be able to reach a compromise with them.’

            ‘I see.  And what happened?’

            ‘People disagreed with me.’  Moonflower smiles.  ‘Well, you wouldn’t expect to agree, would you?’

            ‘What do you mean?’

            ‘Well, it was just silly.  I must have been out of my mind to have thought that.’  Greenwood has a tell.  Every time something happens that he doesn’t like, he grips the tabletop on his right side.  He has a tendency to roll his eyes as well, but he can control that.  The table-gripping thing he doesn’t attempt to control.  

            ‘But you did give a speech in which you said that your side should enter into dialogue with the people who had recently landed.’

            ‘Yes, but I now realise how impossible that would have been.  How can you have a dialogue with some-one who begins by firing a missile into a crowded building?  You might as well talk to a rabid dog.’  Greenwood grips the table and seems defeated.

            ‘No further questions, your Honours.’ 

            Now he is asking for a recess.  So far, this is going better than I expected.  

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