Sentenced
“The prosecution has made a strong argument, Mr. Williams.” The judge sounded tired. His face matched his tone, weary and strained. He looked down at Anders with eyes that saw right through him like they were looking at something else entirely. Maybe looking at nothing at all. “Do you have any argument to refute the evidence?”
Anders was shivering. The courtroom was small and empty, save for the judge, a flurry of security officers, a prosecution lawyer, and a criminal; Anders himself. “I didn’t do it, your honor. I don’t know what else to say.”
The judge sighed. This time, his eyes focused, and they did seem to see Anders. The look, however, was worse than ignorant disinterest. He looked disappointed. “You’re not giving me much of a choice, you know. An officer caught you red handed in a part of the tunnels your kind are not allowed. You had smuggled material on your person. What exactly do you hope for me to do?”
Anders’ shivers grew stronger. “Believe me, your honor. I don’t know where this story came from, but it’s not true, I assure you.”
He was lying. Everybody in the courtroom knew he was lying, but it was all he had left. If his hands weren’t bound in cuffs, he would have killed them all. He would have done anything to avoid the sentence he knew was just one gavel-bang away.
The judge sighed again and reached for his gavel.
Desperately, Anders looked at the wall. He had never seen the land outside the white, metal confines of Divertica, the city formerly known as St. Louis, but he had heard stories. The story that kept ringing through his mind was the simplest one of all; those that are exiled never live to see another day.
“We have no tolerance for criminals in the halls of Divertica,” the judge said. “The price of such actions are well known, so my ruling should come as no surprise to you.” He lifted his gavel. “You are sentenced to exile. May you find peace in the world we had been gracious enough to save you from.”
The gavel banged.
