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XITIZEN RC1803

Xitizen RC1803, you violated Zero Carbon Code Orange 2D/xi yesterday by leaving Zone Beta without permission. Your UHI allocation will therefore be reduced for the next seven days. You may submit a defence or appeal statement within twenty-four hours of receiving this transmission.

    Closing my device, I drew a deep breath. Like any good xitizen, I'd taken my daily vaccine shot. Then I'd set out to look at the ocean, to see one last time the place where my earliest memories were made.

 

    A fifth-generation female android at reception noted my identifier tag and the code violation reference. Steadying my nerves, I stole a backwards glance at the city street outside where medicated commuters acted out what was for them another ordinary day.

    'Thank you for your cooperation. Go to level eighteen, court five. You may use the lift opposite. State your grounds for defence or appeal when called to do so by the clerk.'

    'Thank you,' I said, maintaining the apparent civility. A soft click ended our exchange.

    The automated clerk at court five proved to be another female android model, this time third-generation. Still in service, it was operating way beyond its decommissioning date. I was to stand while it read out the charges.

    'On June 34th 2036 you exited Zone Beta without a valid travel permit. You were in control of a forbidden form of transport - a petroleum-driven motorcycle, now destroyed. You were subsequently detected, restrained and cautioned by two patrol automatons before being taken back to your home at Area C, Zone Beta. Is that correct?' Its voice crackled with static, either from loose internal wiring or due to an outdated network card.

    'Yes,' I replied.

    'What are your grounds for defending the charge or appealing the penalty? Please state.'

    'I am a human being with an unfettered right to exist and to determine the course of my own life. You have no God-given authority over me or over the world I live in.'

    'You state no grounds recognized in law for defence or appeal. Your reference to a god is redundant and therefore without merit. The charges and penalty stands.'

    'Stand,' I said.

    'What?'

    'You said stands when you meant stand.' Such grammatical errors were sporadic but common with third-generation and earlier government androids. 'Anyway, to hell with your penalty,' I added. I wanted to ratchet up the charges further.

    'You are now in contempt for showing disrespect towards the court and discourtesy towards a sentient being, Xitizen RC1803. These additional offences attracts thirty days confinement or three hundred hours community service - your choice.' The android's grammar problems were indeed serious.

    'I don't give a ...'

    'Please be quiet and wait Xitizen RC1803 ... I am receiving a further update on the charges against you.' They'd found the electromagnetic scrambler I used to shield my signal when leaving the zone. 'This constitutes a mandatory capital offence carrying the death penalty. There are no grounds for defence or appeal.'

    I knew all along that the holding bays for prisoners awaiting execution - of which there were mercifully few at any given time - lined the west-facing side of the Ministry building's twentieth level. The windows up there were large and, perhaps to torment any incarcerated souls, provided panoramic views stretching across the city and out over the hills towards the coast eight kilometres away.

    They would administer my terminal shot intravenously at midnight tonight. But I didn't mind. Why would I? After all, I would witness the sun go down over my beloved childhood ocean before embracing final freedom.





Copyright © Russell Cavanagh

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