"Order. The penalties for contempt of Court may include any punishment the Court deems fit, provided they are not cruel and unusual."
"But I do not understand what is going on!" "It is not the business of this Court to educate you. Rhadamanthus, have you any argument to make as to why we should not grant the claimant's motion ... ? If not, we sustain
the objection. The bailiff will take Rhadamanthus off-line." And, just like that, Rhadamanthus was gone. Phaethon
stood by himself on the dark floor. Gannis smiled with wide self-satisfaction.
Phaethon was as alone as he had been in the grim little room where he had found his armor. No sense-filter was operating; there were no aids nor augments running in his memory. And while, theoretically, Silver-Gray protocol forbade the use of emotion-control programs, Phaethon tended to use some small glandular and parasympathetic regulators. But now, with that support gone, it was almost like being drunk. Despair and frustration raged within his brain, and he had no automatic way to turn those emotions off.
Phaethon took a deep breath, fighting for calmness. Everyone in the ancient world used to control themselves naturally, organically, without any cybernetic assistance. If they could do it, he could do it!
The middle cube radiated: "The Court will now proceed to the examination. Does the Respondent wish to modify or amend any prior pleadings to this Court?"
"Are you speaking to me?" asked Phaethon, trying to keep the exasperation out of his voice. "If you want to ask me something, you're going to have to explain what's going on!"
The cube on the left said: "You will maintain order and decorum, or suffer penalty."
Gannis smiled like a shark, and said: "Perhaps the Respondent wishes to request more time to earn another fortune and hire another lawyer. We would not oppose a motion for a postponement."
A moment of blinding anger stabbed through Phaethon, surprising him.
(And on the other hand, Phaethon reminded himself, the ancient world had been turbulent with war and crime and insanity, not once or twice but at all times. Maybe this self-
control stuff was more difficult than it seemed.)
Phaethon said to Gannis: "There will be no postponements."
He turned toward the Curia. "I meant no disrespect to Your Lordships. But you have deprived me of the attorney I was using to instruct me in your proper forms and rituals. You have agreed to tell me those things missing from my memory which I need to know to proceed in this case; yet you have not done so. Is this the fairness and justice for which the Curia is famous? I remind Your Lordships that what we do here today will be remembered not just for a century or a millennium but for all the rest of our lives. We, none of us, had better do anything for which the future will upbraid us."
Gannis's smile faded as his face-program hid his expression once again.
The cube on the right said: "Well said. We will inform you of the facts of the case. The matter is simple. You stand to" (he used a word Phaethon did not know, some archaic legal expression) "a very great deal of property and money, perhaps the largest estate ever passed along in human history. The result may change the social and economic relationships within the Golden Oecumene in a revolutionary fashion. Consequently, despite that these are rather routine matters, we seek to avoid even the appearance of irregularity. Therefore, the Curia exercises its right to invoke special jurisdiction, and we sit as a Probate Court, in order to oversee the deposition and examination to determine your identity. This present hearing is to give you the opportunity to submit to a routine Noetic examination, and swear, under telepathic oath, that you are Phaethon Prime Rhadamanth. Do you have any questions?"
"Yes. Who is giving me this fabulous fortune and why? If he wishes to give me this gift, why doesn't this generous person, whoever it is, simply step forward and give it?" "He is dead."
Gannis said, "Objection! The Court's statement is prejudicial. The finality of the death of the deceased is one of the facts at issue in this case!"
The cube on the left said: "Overruled. We make no ruling."
The cube on the right said: "The death of the deceased is a matter of rebuttable presumption under these facts. He is dead until proven otherwise."
Phaethon said: "Your Lordships, was this man some historical figure, some Egyptian pharaoh or American president? I know that people like that from time to time established trust funds as a gift to be paid to the first person to do some great feat, fly a man-powered aircraft across the Atlantic, or something. But if this is the case, why are we in a Court of Law? Wouldn't an archeologist or paleopsychologist be the best person to determine the original intent of this dead man?"
"The death was recent."
Phaethon's mind was momentarily blank. Recent? "Was it someone too poor to afford Noumenal Recording, or a prim-itivist who objected on metaphysical grounds to"
"Your sire, Helion, who created you, is the deceased."
For a moment, Phaethon believed it. For a moment, he could perfectly imagine the emptiness his life would hold if his sire were gone. Gone forever. He did not like his sire; often they argued. But there was nonetheless a bond and a love between them, like father and son, and a long history of engineering projects on which they both worked together. To picture the Rhadamanth Mansion, or even the Golden Oecumene, without the bright, brave figure of Helion as one of the society's foremost leaders; it was impossible. It was like imagining the world where the sun did not come up. A sense of desolation crept across Phaethon's flesh, and sank into his heart.
But then, in the next moment, Phaethon smiled. "Oh, come now, Your Lordships! I saw Helion not two days ago. He was at the Ovations for the Silver-Gray; I saw him accept the award. We spoke before he went to Lemke's operetta. You know the one, the clever way each auditor gets the memories of each of the characters not in order, so that they each see the same ending in nine different interpretations? It's just the kind of funny old-fashioned thing he likes. And ... and just this morning, Helion was on the by-channels. The Six Peers
sent a contingent to honor him. I suppose it's Seven Peers now. A Peerage! He has been working for that goal longer than I've been alive. That was this morning! You're not going to take that away from him by pretending that he is dead! He is not dead! No one dies anymore! No one ever needs to die!"
Phaethon's voice had grown louder and shriller. But then, abruptly, he closed his mouth, and the muscles in his cheeks were clenched.
There was a moment of silence in the chambers. None of the Curia upbraided him for his outburst. Gannis had turned his head away. Atkins's grim demeanor did not change, even when a look of sympathy or pity softened his eyes.
Phaethon stared at the floor, emotions boiling. He saw the tangled webs of law in the mosaic underfoot. Laws meant to protect the innocent. But even now, even in this day and age, there were things nothing could ward off.
Phaethon said, "It was the solar disaster, wasn't it?"
The Court said: "The brief for the Respondent states, it is not contested, that when Helion beamed his brain information out from his body on the Solar Array to the Mercury Polar Station, the solar storms garbled the signal. Only part of his mind was recovered, enough to form a partial diary of those last events, but not enough to reconstruct his personality intact. The man whom you call Helion is actually a relic of Helion, who was recorded one hour before, as an automatic backup, when the storms first erupted from the core. The question before the Court is whether the relic has sufficient similarity to the prime version to form continuity of identity, and therefore to be considered the 'same' individual in the eyes of the law."
"So the only difference between the two versions is an hour? That's ridiculous! The Helion who is alive now, the Helion Relic, must be indistinguishable from the original, Helion Prime!"