Mindgate 1: Mindgate, #1

Mindgate

By

Ray Harris  

Copyright Ray Harris

COVER: The cover image is of an acrylic painting by Ray Harris, of a double sun on the opposite side of the Milky Way, viewed from one of its orbiting planets.

The most remarkable thing about this painting, is that it was painted three years before scientists reported the existence of double suns.

How did Ray come to envisage such a scene, years before anyone even thought that they existed? The author encourages you to wonder about this!

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DEDICATION

Gird your loins – this is a long dedication!

In the past, dedications I’ve made for my books have been to my Mom, my Dad, My Wife, my Children and so on. This dedication mentions no particular names.

This dedication is for all the creators and entertainers in this world, past, present, and indeed future.

It is for all the Writers who have danced their words across the pages of our minds, creating delights that interact with our imaginings – worlds within worlds, characters unforgettable, scenes spectacular, plots that defy reason, yet embrace reason. They have activated the playground of our eternal minds with never ending entertainment.

It is for all the Producers and Directors of cinema – those who have taken the worlds of writers and delivered their literary children into the realm of light, sound and movement. They have added both the magic of the mind and technology of the day to create living dreams that prance before our eyes, play with our minds, and our emotions. They have carried us to strange lands, wonderful stages for wonderful characters to boast their special talents.

It is for the Actors of the stage and cinema – the chameleons of humanity, able to change who they are in an instant and transport you to the world of make believe... and make you believe! The beautiful, the ugly, the charismatic, the quirky and the strange – each sliding into their role like a sword to its scabbard.

It is for the Dancers, the gyrators of form, who flax our eyes into their form, and who weave between the notes of song and the strains of music... the vibrations of our souls!

It is for the Musicians, who breathe life into unspoken words, weave magic around them to capture our hearts, indeed to make them beat to a different drum. The ones who arrange the ordinary into the extraordinary, with words that capture our minds and twist them into the vibrations of universal song. The creators of symphonies, ballad and soul, to squeeze our emotions to ecstatic orgasm.

It is for the Artists, who flash their brushes across the canvas, exploding colour, form and texture in a myriad of spectacular displays from the subtle to the extravagant. They who tease the understanding of appreciation from our very souls – indeed, the ones who activate the link between life and the cosmos!

It is for the Sculptors, relatives of the artists, who wrestle with the clays of the earth to do the same as the artists, but in a remarkably different way.

It is for the Comics – the jesters of society, the ones that see us for who we are, and strip away all pretense so that we may gain the courage to laugh with delight at our oft-times silly ways. They, the ones that ensure we remain human while in this earthly form.

It is for all the supporting role-players of all these magnificent and colourful people – the ones who smooth the way, the creators of garb, facility, word and guidance. The ones who seldom are known by name, who fade into the background of fame, but without whom, no fame would be! It includes wives, husbands, mothers, fathers, brothers and sisters, family on every level, friends and business partners as well as employees paid and unpaid, many of whom pay the ultimate price of anonymity.

It is especially for all the above, who were just as good or even better than those well known, who went unnoticed, unknown, who faded away without the world receiving of their special joys.

Although this dedication holds no specific names, the names of ALL the above, are built in to a holograph of this page!

Thank you one and all for the richness and flavor you put into my life – thank you for the inspiration that released my own special talents! I hold you dear to my heart, each and every one... and the best of it all, is that our journey has only just begun!

Ray Harris.

Table of Contents

About this Collection

Faraday

Mindlink

Starting Over

The Show Goes On

Once in a Lifetime

Nothing New Under the Sun

Deception

The Attic at 3 St. Stephen Street

First to the Moon

The Hit

A last Few Words

About Ray Harris

Other Books by Ray Harris

Contact Ray Harris

ABOUT THIS COLLECTION

I believe that Science Fiction has captured the imagination of many, because it poses questions like What if? or statements like This is how it may be, amongst others. Certainly it has been the facility through which authors could let loose their imaginations, using the latest in technology as a springboard to project outwards from there, as well as using the unknown as stages for colourful fantasy.

Science Fiction certainly captured my imagination at a very young age, when Asimov and his contemporaries were at the height of their careers. I couldn’t get enough of it, and I daresay that I wasn’t the only one! Before long, I found myself constructing imaginary worlds based on the scientific facts of the day, and then building alien life-forms arising from the forces and influences of those factors. From there, the heavens opened, and my mind travelled to distant galaxies.

There was however one nagging constant with me, and that was the human factor - how did all this amazing speculation pertain to, or affect humanity?

Now I have tried to answer this question through the ten stories in this book, each with different approaches, each aimed at some basic factors that I believe demand our consideration. Hence the name of the book ‘Mindgate’, as I truly believe it is our minds that are the gateway not only to the stars, but to the entire universe and all that is.

In 2006, I was fortunate enough to experience clinical death. I had a heart attack and was pronounced dead on the scene by paramedics. I was dead for an incredible two-and-a-half hours or thereabouts. During this death event, I enjoyed the most fantastic experience, during which, I had the understanding that I would return to life, and that I needed to remember everything and to convey what I’d learnt to my fellow human beings. This I did by writing my book ‘The Day I Died’ after reviving. This book is also available in eBook form if you are interested in reading it. Why I am mentioning it here, is that as fantastic as that experience was, it posed further deeper questions, of which I have postulated on in some of the stories in this collection.

I trust you will enjoy these speculations and hope that it will have you queueing up for Mindgate 2, which will follow soon.

Ray Harris.

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FARADAY

So many projected ideas that SF writers have come up with, have made it to reality, that as outlandish, fantastical and unlikely that some of these ideas are, we are no longer as skeptical about them as we once were.

A case in point would be Arthur C Clarke’s notion of everyone carrying a telephone on their person as they went about life – a lightweight portable telephone that they could use to communicate with anyone around the world. Today we have the cellphone which was a direct development from his idea!

There are many others.

Here in this story, I propose one that would have massive social implications. The scary thing is that we actually do have the technological capacity to produce this item for the purpose it was intended for in the story!

Irritated at the insistent banging on his front door, Hanson plucked it open to view two men whom he instantly recognized as the police. An ugly feeling expanded in his gut.

Dr. Stephen Hanson? the stocky police detective gruffly asked.

You know who I am, Hanson replied coldly.

Ignoring this reply, the detective continued, You’re under arrest for the murders of Susan Rogers and a list of others. Anything you say may be held against you in a court of law... he signaled to his partner, who stepped towards Hanson with the intention of cuffing him.

Hanson’s hand flashed to his pocket then to his mouth. As he swallowed he coldly growled, I’ve been expecting you, and promptly collapsed.

Shit! yelled Officer Dawson, surging forward, he’s swallowed something! Quickly crouching down over the fallen man, Dawson stuck his fingers into his mouth to remove whatever it was.

For Christ’s sake man, it’s not in his mouth; he’s already got it down. Stand back, I say! Lieutenant Steel bellowed, pulling at Dawson’s sleeve, out of my way... move!

Perplexed at this command from Steel, Dawson stepped over Hanson into the hallway, not at all sure what was going on in his partner’s mind.

As Hanson lay convulsing on the floor, Steel drew a peculiar looking ‘gun’ from under his coat, aimed it at Hanson and fired.

Dawson jumped back in fright, but instead of a report, the sound issued by this strange weapon was a soft but very solid ‘thunk’, and from the muzzle, shot what looked like a fisherman’s cast-net that totally enveloped Hanson. Steel pressed a button on the contraption that promptly drew the ‘net’ tightly around Hanson’s body, which was still jerking in the convulsions of death. Gotcha, ya bastard! he grinned, chuffed with himself, "this is one that won’t get away! Help me carry him to the car."

Jesus! Dawson gawked, what the heck’s going on Lieutenant? What are you doing? And what’s that thing? he asked, pointing at the contraption in Steel’s hand. Steel pressed a button on a tubular device at the base of the ‘net’. This disconnected it from the strange looking gun, leaving a small stub with a winking red light.

Insurance, he grinned, one with a pay-out!

"What the hell is that thing?" Dawson insisted.

Just a little something Einstein rigged for me. Now come on, let’s get him to the car, quick!

Lieutenant, what’s going on? This isn’t standard procedure. We’re supposed to call the coroner and an ambulance.

Neither of which would help him now, and anyway, we’re about to make history, so help me with him. That’s an order!

Jesus Lieutenant, I don’t know what you’re doing here. I don’t want to get involved in something that’ll lead to suspension or anything...

Don’t worry Dawson – I’ll take full responsibility for this, now help me get him to the car already!

Dawson struggled with the enveloped body as he assisted Steel to get Hanson into the back of the vehicle. They hastily jumped into the battered unmarked tan Hyundai, scattering stones on the gravel driveway as they sped off.

Do you mind telling me what’s going on? Dawson asked, clearly ruffled, as he looked over his shoulder at their now obviously dead prisoner trussed up on the back seat. There was a faint smell of almonds in the air.

Justice, Officer Dawson, Justice... at last!

What the hell are you talking about man? You know there’s going to be some serious shit about this, don’t you?

Not when I’m done Dawson. Stop worrying and learn.

Dawson stared incredulously at him and shook his head.

So where are we taking this John Doe now?

We’re going to see Einstein, he chuckled gleefully, as a vagrant lock of straight black hair parted company from his fringe and fell over his brow.

Your cousin? Dawson’s eyebrows lifted almost into his hairline.

The very one, Steel confirmed, pushing aside the lock of hair that had a habit of falling over his right eye.

I don’t get it.

Wait and see boy, wait and see. You’re about to become part of history!

Dawson eyed him suspiciously. I’m not sure I like the sound of that at all! he exclaimed sourly.

Oh, in a good way Dawson, in a good way!

Einstein! Steel yelled, barging through the front door without bothering to knock. Steel’s cousin was blissing out on an overstuffed couch, headphones on, eyes closed and feet tapping to an unheard rhythm.

Hey, Einstein! he yelled, unceremoniously ripping the earphones off his cousin’s head.

Einstein’s eyes snapped open in fright as his disheveled, overweight body rolled off the couch onto the floor with a thunk.

Jesus! What the... then he caught sight of Steel, Jayjay! You nearly gave me a heart attack, man!

We’ve got one! Steel’s smile spread from ear to ear as he shook his cousin’s shoulder.

Got one what? he looked puzzled as he got up off the floor, running his fingers through his tousled red hair.

An attempted escapee, man! Come on boy, get with the program.

Einstein’s eyes lost focus in a moment of confusion, then recognition dawned and he goggled at Steel.

You’re shitting me! he said, openly awed.

I shit you not buddy. Got him in the car with Dawson. We’ll bring him in now. Get your gear ready, we’ll need confirmation and body extraction.

You got it bud!

Einstein, whose real name was Randy, bounced into an adjoining room and proceeded to drag electronic equipment into the living room. Bring him in.

Steel went back to the car and he and Dawson carried Hanson’s ‘trussed’ body into the living room and dumped it unceremoniously onto the floor.

By this time, Einstein had cleared the centre of the floor and had set up a jumble of electronic equipment on the coffee table, sweeping a pile of empty pizza boxes off it.

Einstein clipped a wire from one instrument onto the netting surrounding Hanson’s body, and inserted three needle-like probes into it. He switched on a PC screen and typed in a code. Dawson gawked and scratched his head. Steel watched apprehensively. A lot rode on what would come up. The computer screen came to life in a blizzard of white snow.

Aaah shit! We must have missed, Steel growled his disappointment.

Stick around bud... computer has to go through a series of checks first. Give it a minute.

Steel fidgeted with impatience.

Suddenly a fuzzy image of a man’s face appeared, its mouth opening and closing, yet emitting no sound.

YES! Steel exulted, fisting the air above him, you’ve done it bud, you’ve actually done it! He grabbed Einstein around the neck and hugged him so hard that he just about choked him.

Easy man, easy! You’ll have two of us in there if you keep that up!

Steel let him go and again punched the air gleefully. Yes! Oh man, yes!

Dawson stared at his senior’s strange behavior. Lieutenant, are you okay? he asked.

Composing himself, Steel grinned at Dawson. I’m more than okay Dawson... just check that out! He pointed at the ghostly image, his finger literally shaking with excitement.

Dawson frowned at the picture on the screen. Ooookaaay... what am I looking at?

You, my good officer, are looking at the very first posthumous prisoner in history!

Dawson glanced between Steel and the screen. What? What do you mean? he asked, nonplussed.

That, Steel tapped at the face on the screen with his finger, is what you would call the ‘ghost’ of our perp!

As Dawson studied the image on the screen, realization slowly dawned. You mean to tell me that that’s an image of Hanson’s spirit?

The very one, Dawson, the very one! What’s more, it’s not just an image, it’s the man himself! He slapped him on the shoulder.

Dawson tennised his head between Steel and the PC screen a few times. So let me get this straight... that’s Hanson’s ghost? So where is it, and what’s so exciting about that?

Steel flopped onto the sofa, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

"What’s exciting about it, Dawson, is that Hanson’s ghost is contained... restrained inside that net with his body. We’ve managed to stop him from escaping justice."

I’m not quite with you... Dawson mumbled, scratching his head.

Steel leaned forward, excitement dancing in his eyes.

"His ghost, Dawson... it’s Hanson’s essence, the essence of who he is. He hasn’t gone to some netherworld. He hasn’t escaped his deeds. He’s been caught and contained, and as such, he can be prosecuted!"

Startled, Dawson backed up to a rickety chair and sat down with a thump. You’re kidding, of course?

Absolutely not. This is the real deal. Now all we have to do is extract the murdering bastard, and remand him in custody until we can get him to trial.

Dawson shook his head. "Lieutenant, I’m not sure I believe this... you can’t be serious. You’re having me on."

Steel’s eyes hardened. I’ve never been more serious in my life, Dawson. You know that the last dozen cases we’ve handled; how every one of those perps escaped custody by committing suicide? Well, no more my friend, no more. From now on, these bastards will face the music! He got up and clapped a hand on Dawson’s shoulder, Einstein’s going to extract the body, so you can call the coroner’s office now. He’ll be done by the time they get here.

Dawson made the call, and while they waited for the mortician’s van and the coroner to arrive, Dawson wandered about Einstein’s living room in a daze. He still couldn’t quite grasp that what Steel and Einstein were telling him was actually real.

Done! exclaimed Einstein, banging on the top of a thick, clear plastic container. Inside it, a matt-black box with a network of copper wire wound around it, floated in what looked like water but was actually a vacuum. The floating effect was created by some fancy electromagnetic arrangement fixed to the base of the plastic casing.

Steel slapped him on the back. Fantastic! We’ll take him to the charge office straightaway.

Okay, Einstein nodded, but be sure to reinsert the power pack onto mains when you get there and to enter the code for power transfer. Just press the green button on the transformer once it’s plugged in, key in ‘ghost’ on the keypad, and press ‘enter’.

Gotcha! Steel grinned, You’ll go down in history for this pal!

Einstein grinned and cuffed him back playfully. You just get this bastard convicted and I’ll be happy.

In the interrogation room, Chief of police for the Twelfth Precinct stared at the contraption on the desk.

"Lieutenant, I want you to report to the division psychiatrist. It seems that last case was too much for you.

Steel ground his teeth. Chief, this is serious – we’ll be making history here!"

The Chief looked at him in astonishment. Do you honestly propose indicting a ghost? We’ll become famous alright... famous throughout the world for that matter... for being bloody barking mad! They’ll laugh us into the history books!

"Chief, we’ll be indicting a person. One Dr. Stephen Hanson, for multiple murders, and what’s more, we will get a conviction. Why do you think he committed suicide? He knew we had the evidence to convict him, and that there was no way he could get away with it. He thought suicide would get him off the hook, but he was wrong!"

Holding his head in both hands, the Chief paced around the room, his eyes never leaving the ‘floating’ black box.

Look Lieutenant, even if I did go along with you on this lunatic idea, the first thing that they’d throw us out of court on, is that we didn’t follow procedure. You were supposed to immediately call the coroner. The body should’ve been sent straight to the mortuary. Instead, you cart it off to a private residence. They’ll crucify us!

Despite his annoyance, Steel kept his voice steady. Look Chief, this is ground-breaking stuff. Yes, they’ll try to do that, but through this case, we’ll set a whole new precedent on procedure. We can prove that following the normal procedure would have nullified the incarceration of the suspect.

The Chief dropped his hands to his sides with a double slap. Explain it to me again.

Sensing victory, a thin smile crossed Steel’s mouth briefly. We use this device my cousin made, to catch a suspect if he seems to be aiming to commit suicide, he said, pointing at the object that looked like a pistol with an oversized barrel, "it ejects a flexible copper net that envelops the suspect before he dies, which acts like a Faraday cage. As it’s grounded by electrical charge feedback, any energy that is caught inside the net cannot escape! he held the Chief’s eyes steadily, now, under normal circumstances when a person commits suicide, the spirit detaches from the physical body at the moment of death and leaves the area. The ghost, or spirit is essentially a crystalline electromagnetic field, which means that it has substance. In this case, because it’s electromagnetic in nature, the Faraday net will contain the essence of the person... it can’t escape. You with me so far?"

The Chief grunted. Go on.

After this, the ghost or spirit has to be separated from the body as quickly as possible because the body immediately begins a process of putrefaction, Steel explained, "after which the body can be handled in the usual manner, while preventing the spirit from escaping. Einst... my cousin Randy, has also developed a way to incarcerate the spirit until it can be indicted and taken to court for prosecution. He can explain the whole procedure to the court. I can assure you, there’s no doubt that the essence of Dr. Stephen Hanson is contained. This means that because it is his spirit, in effect Hanson can still be prosecuted."

The Chief shook his head. Hell Lieutenant, it sounds too much like playing God to me. If a person is dead they’re out of our jurisdiction, so to speak. They’re in a spiritual realm that’s not controlled by us.

"Was not," Steel corrected with satisfaction, "we now do have the technology to enter that environment, and this case against Henson will set a precedent. Criminals will have to think twice about committing crimes and presuming that they can escape punishment or prosecution through suicide. I believe that we’ll have struck a major blow for law enforcement."

Nevertheless, said the Chief, "this sort of ground-breaking action usually open a Pandora’s Box of unforeseen side-issues. It’s only during the process that these become apparent and they nearly always cause a major headache. I for one, am not standing in line for that."

Steel leveled a hard blue-eyed stare at him. Didn’t you swear to uphold the law Chief? Is this something you can truly walk away from just because no-one’s done it before?

Jesus, but you’re a persistent puppy, Steel, he grimaced and sighed, but every precinct has one, and I guess you’re mine.

You betcha, sir, he replied with a twisted grin.

The Chief grunted and scanned the box again. I’ll have to sleep on it. I’ll let you know what my decision is tomorrow. Meantime, what’re you going to do with this? he asked, pointing at the apparatus.

Ah... that’s the other thing I wanted to speak to you about... Steel gestured weakly.

The Chief pulled a face. I could’ve guessed that this’d only be the beginning, he sighed again, what is it?

We’ll need a special incarceration room for cases like this. I’ll need a room that is strictly off limits, except to the officers presiding over the case. A place where there’s an uninterrupted power supply and that has a source of emergency power, if the mains go down. I was thinking of interrogation room number four.

You don’t ask for much, do you? the Chief shook his head. Okay, I’ll tell Deputy Johansen to sort it out for you. You can go and work the details out with him yourself.

Thanks Chief. I know you’ll give this serious thought. I’m sorry for the trouble that it’ll undoubtedly cause, but I absolutely believe that this’ll prove to be a major breakthrough for law enforcement, and I know how strongly you feel about that.

If there’s one thing I hate Steel, it’s being buttered up, so bugger off and get on with it, before I change my mind! the Chief stomped out of the interrogation room, slamming the door behind him.

Steel grinned wickedly. He knew the Chief’s passion for justice. Even though this case would most certainly prove uncomfortable in the extreme, he’d go with it. The fact that he’d sanctioned the special incarceration room was a good sign. He was right. The next day the Chief called him in and said that the implications of this new development was so overwhelming in terms of law enforcement, that he had no choice but to approve the prosecution of the ghost of Dr. Stephen Hanson.

The Public Prosecutor Jayn Breaker stared at them goggle-eyed. "Is this some sort of practical joke?

The Chief sighed, and Steel looked down at his shoes without seeing them. This interview was not one they’d looked forward to. The Public Prosecutor’s nickname, ‘Ballbreaker’, was not without justification. To underestimate her or mess with her was foolhardy in the extreme.

The Chief cleared his throat. Look Jayn, I know what it sounds like, but this is serious and we believe it’ll be a massive breakthrough both in law enforcement and in the court’s ability to prosecute suicides effectively. It’s not a joke. Let me explain... he went on to outline the whole concept, supported by Steel, when she curtly asked questions. It was to her credit that she took them seriously at all. At the end of a long and uncomfortable session, she went and sat behind her desk, pursed her lips and tapped her pen rhythmically on her desk pad.

They waited anxiously in silence.

Finally she looked up and said, This one’s going to be a bitch, gentlemen! I’ll allow it, but I’m not happy about it at all! Be sure you have all your facts though, because if this comes apart, I wouldn’t like to be in your shoes.

The Chief nodded, his face grim. "We’ll do everything else by the book. I am just as unhappy about this, but I agree with Steel. This case will be ground-breaking."

She leveled a grim eye at him. That Chief, is the understatement of the century.

Ms. Lancett, this preliminary hearing has been called by the defendant’s Attorney, Mr. Brown, Judge Clatch went through the formalities, Mr. Brown, you have been assigned by the state to defend this criminal case. You made it plain that you had some objections. Would you please state what they are before we proceed? She fervently hoped he had good grounds. As it turned out, he did not.

Your Honor, he held out his hands, as if begging, "I object on the grounds that no real case can be made against my ‘Client’," saying ‘Client’ as if it was a sort of joke.

Explain, she demanded, and this had better be good!

On the grounds that there is no precedent, said Brown.

Quite the contrary, the prosecuting attorney, Faye Lancett, jumped in immediately, I refer to the case of the Russian Lawyer Sergei Magnitsky. On April 3rd 2012 a Moscow court decision formally allowed prosecution posthumously.

"This is not Russia, Ms. Lancett," the Judge said sourly.

"True, but I am mentioning it in support of other case examples, to show there is precedent your Honor," she said.

Get on with it then, ordered Clatch.

Well, there’s also the case of the teacher, one Graeme Paton, who was posthumously cleared of rape. He’d died in prison after being wrongfully convicted.

Is that all? Clatch pressed.

There’s also the case of a posthumous full pardon of Timothy Cole in 2010. Likewise, there was the case of Lenny Bruce, the potty-mouthed wit who turned stand-up comedy into social commentary. Gov. George E. Pataki posthumously pardoned him 39 years after he’d been convicted of obscenity for using bad words in a Greenwich Village nightclub act, she paused briefly, The Governor said that the posthumous pardon, the first in the state's history, was a declaration of New York's commitment to upholding the First Amendment."

Oh, for God’s sake Lancett, Brown exploded, what on earth has this to do with trying a dead person in situ?

It confirms my point exactly! Lancett leveled an even gaze at him, switching to Clatch after a moment, "I point also to the many exonerations brought about by the group ‘Innocence Project in the USA’, many of which have been posthumous. Apart from that your Honor, we are dealing with the essence of Dr. Hanson here, and seeing that we do have him incarcerated and it is provable that it is indeed him that is contained, there is every reason to prosecute."

Judge Clatch pinched her eyes closed and held the bridge of her nose between thumb and forefinger for a full minute, as she considered.

Your Honor, Brown enquired, given that the deceased has no way of speaking, how are we to go to trial with this case?

If I may, your Honor, Lancett interjected, "we do have a viable means to communicate with Dr. Hanson."

Oh, and how do you propose to do that? she asked.

Through a Medium, your Honor.

Brown snorted his laugh and sneered, "And how do we know your Medium would tell us what Dr. Hanson is really saying. We’d have to go on her word alone. That’s hardly proper court procedure."

What my learned associate says is perfectly true, your Honor, but we must realize that we are dealing with unusual circumstances here. Besides that, it is a fact that our Medium, Mrs. Albright, is a married, stable and trustworthy person. The police have used her on various occasions that have proved her credibility. We also have a way to verify whether the spirit of Dr. Hanson concurs with what she says he is saying.

Oh, and what’s that? enquired the Judge sourly.

By getting Dr. Hanson to raise his right hand when he agrees with what Mrs. Albright says, and by waving it if he doesn’t agree.

And there’s another thing, Brown pointed out, virtually ignoring what Lancett had said, have you ever heard of ‘abatement by death’? It means that the trial is called off the moment the accused has died during the trial. Dr. Hanson is clearly deceased!

Lancett checked herself from pulling a face. "Of course Mr. Brown, but we are not talking about death during a trial today, we are talking of trying someone who has sought to escape justice through suicide. That means death took place before the trial!"

Brown swallowed his anger at her condescension.

The Judge gazed thoughtfully at her desk clock, pursing her lips. Finally she looked up. "I’ll need to give this some further consideration. I’m remanding the case to the 23rd of next month and I’ll let you know then whether we will proceed with it or not. At this stage, I don’t know what to say."

Judge Clatch spent two solid weeks paging through unlikely law records, fervently hoping to unearth some sort of precedent on which to base the procedures of the case, or better still, something that would give her reason to simply chuck it out of court. She was well aware that the nature of the case harbored potential public ridicule and therewith the certain destruction of her career. By the time she made her decision, she was in a grim mood indeed.

When the 23rd came around, the Judge decided to allow the case.

Judge Emelia Clatch banged her gavel. This court is now in session. You may all be seated.

The Officer of the court stepped forward, announcing, The first case is one of the State versus Dr. Stephen Hanson, deceased, who stands accused of the multiple murders of... He went on to cite the names of the twenty-five murdered women.

Judge Clatch leaned forward and said, Would you please repeat that so that all participants are clear on the unusual nature of this case?

The court officer cleared his throat, and reread the details of the charge a little slower this time. There was a buzz of excitement in the gallery.

Judge Clatch banged her gavel sharply. Quiet! In view of the unusual nature of this case, I believe it will be necessary to conduct the proceedings with a reasonable amount of informality. I will not insist on formality where that evidence points to the deliverance of the facts pertaining to the case. Having said that, I wish to make it abundantly clear that I will not tolerate any outrageous irregularities or disturbances, she pointed the gavel at the gallery, and that includes you spectators. You will kindly remember that your presence is privileged, so do not test my patience! Our sole aim in this court is to establish the facts of the matter at hand, and given the unusual circumstances of this case, I insist that each and every participant here considers every approach they make with due circumspection, She put her gavel down and rearranged the collar of her gown as she looked over the excited and expectant upturned faces.

Firstly, the court will clarify how communication between the accused and the court is to be established, she continued, the accused will be presented in the form of a holographic image. When the accused is asked to agree, he will raise his right hand. If he dissents, he will wave his hand from left to right. While most of you do not know how this is possible, it will be made clear as the case proceeds. I have spoken at great length to the Chief Prosecutor, the arresting Officers and others linked to the case, and I am satisfied that this case falls within the ambits of the law. In addition, the court has appointed a proven Medium, Mrs. Albright, to assist in communicating with Dr. Hanson. There was a stir in the gallery, instantly stilled as Judge Clatch’s steely eyes flashed in that direction.

Judge Clatch then turned to the projected image of Hanson with a sour expression. Do you sir, agree that you are Doctor Stephen Hanson, who used to reside at number 21 Green Gardens? she asked, and then turned to Mrs. Albright for the affirmative, which she received.

Do you, Doctor Stephen Hanson, plead guilty or not guilty? she continued.

Not guilty, your Honor, said Mrs. Albright.

Dr. Hanson, asked the Judge, do you concur with what Mrs. Albright has said on your behalf?

The holographic image of Hanson raised its right hand.

Very well. Dr. Hanson, from now on I expect you to confirm every utterance that Mrs. Albright says on your behalf in this manner. If however, you do not concur with what she says, then I expect you to wave your hand from left to right. Do you understand?

Hanson’s image held up its right hand. There seemed to be a smirk on his face.

She nodded at Brown. Counsel for the plaintiff may begin

Hey, Bitch! a man yelled from the back of the public area, You’re messing with God’s domain! Who gives you the right to enter there?

Judge Clatch banged her gavel and pointed it. Remove that man! she ordered, one more outburst like that and I will have this court cleared! There was a brief scuffle as the man was taken away. "You will all burn in hell for this...‘’ he yelled as he was dragged off, ‘’God will not tolerate this blasphemy! Jesus will judge you!" an ominous silence settled on the court as the slamming court door shut out his cries. The man’s outburst had clearly affected some people.

Right, now let’s get on with it, Clatch spat with meaning.

Brown was particularly annoyed by the man’s challenge as he had virtually pre-empted his opening statement. He was ruffled and unsure of how to deal with this, so he said, With respect your Honor, we would prefer that Prosecution begins. He needed time to rearrange his thoughts.

Judge Clatch frowned briefly. Very well, Mr. Brown. Miss Lancett, would you proceed.

Lancett rose from her seat and took a leisurely walk past the front of the jury-stand; her hands folded in front of her and started to speak as if deep in thought. The State accuses Dr. Stephen Hanson, a resident of New York, of the murder and necrophilia of twenty five young women between the dates of 18th May 1988 and the 18th May 2013. The State intends to prove that Dr. Hanson possessed a deep sociopathic hatred of eighteen-year-old women that stemmed from his being spurned by one such young woman, when he proposed to give her the ‘gift’ of sex for her birthday. That he went on to kill this young lady and then, every year on that date, he continued to kill. That he got away with these murders until Lieutenant Steel, of the New York Police department’s 12th precinct, found evidence incriminating him, and through investigation, was able to link all twenty-five killings to him. We further propose that Dr. Hanson, knowing that he was about to be arrested and convicted of these murders, had prepared his escape through suicide by ingesting a cyanide capsule, and so we also add his premeditated self-murder, to the list of murders already mentioned. she scanned the faces of the members of the jury, then walked with measured steps back to her seat.

Mr. Brown... the Judge prompted.

Your Honor, Brown stood and strutted out in front of the jurors, pausing to strike a pose for the benefit of the court artist, which caused Lancett to stifle a laugh.

Is there a problem, Ms. Lancett? the Judge asked sharply.

No Your Honor, I was just stopping a sneeze.

The Judge’s eyes lingered on her a moment. You may continue Mr. Brown, she said in a measured, meaningful tone that warned Flay not to push her luck.

Er, yes... Your Honor, the Defense finds it hardly credible that this case goes forward as there are so many irregularities. Indeed, there are so many that I hardly know where to begin, he said.

Try the beginning, Mr. Brown, Clatch said dryly.

An outbreak of laughter burst from the public gallery. Brown’s neck reddened and the Judge slammed her gavel savagely down on the bench. Quiet! I will not warn you about unruliness again! she paused for effect and the noise subsided almost