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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..02bd459 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #69213 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/69213) diff --git a/old/69213-0.txt b/old/69213-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 132e456..0000000 --- a/old/69213-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1234 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The thirteenth juror, by Leslie -Waltham - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The thirteenth juror - -Author: Leslie Waltham - -Release Date: October 23, 2022 [eBook #69213] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net. - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE THIRTEENTH JUROR *** - - - - - -The 13TH JUROR - -By LESLIE WALTHAM - -[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from -Startling Stories Summer 1955. -Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that -the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] - - -Excerpt taken from "THE HISTORY OF TRIAL PROCEDURE, 2175 TO 2543, A.D." -written by Prof. A. I. Schule, S.E.D.: - -"Even then, in the beginning of the twenty-third century, crime per -se, itself had ceased to exist. The lower emotions had already been -bred out of the people. Envy, hate, avarice and kindred responses were -virtually non-existent. Every citizen had a crude type of emotiograph -attached to his person, which was examined periodically by the Eye. If -any deviation from the norm was observed, the accused was called up for -questioning. - -"In the absence of actual crime, any emotion which might have -precipitated crime was considered unlawful, and men were tried for -too much anger, or too little pity. The only purpose of a trial was -to ascertain whether sufficient provocation could be established to -warrant a given reaction. If the cause, or the incident, justified the -emotional response, the defendant was exculpated. - -"Trial procedure was extremely simple. The use of the witness was -obsolete. Above the defendant's box was a concentric screen upon which -his thoughts could be projected. The Questioner would channel the -thoughts of the accused into whatever date periods were pertinent, and -in that way, the defendant reviewed his own case. - -"It is into this category that the celebrated, and very controversial, -John Hastings case falls. You all remember that, of course, as the -'cause cêlêbre' of the year 2375 A.D." - -No. Amer. Sec., Book Two, p. 675. - - * * * * * - -One night they watched a column of flame lift a silver speck into the -sky. And one night, much later, they heard a voice call into space, -saying, "Come back, John Hastings, come back. - -"Our inspection has shown serious deviations in your emotiograph. You -will turn your rocket and rechart for Earth, John Hastings. For trial, -John Hastings." - -And they came to the trial. Out of the ripe, wet hills, down from the -blistering dome over the city, up through the shafts of the gritty -Substructure. They came and stood in lines, wiping the August sweat -from their eyes, littering the levels with orange peels as they ate. -Women, with babies strapped to their shoulders, and suppers left -unradiated on the cooker. Men, with lead-shielded faces, and tools -laid aside in the middle of a movement. But they came, and stood and -jostled one another, milling and gossiping: - -"Gonna be some trial!" - -"... might even resort to electrocution...." - -"Naw, that's dark time methods." - -"Oh yeah?" - -Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah.... - -But they felt good, the people, for it wasn't their trial. The words -could come easy and undammed, for it was John Hastings who was on -trial. They could look at him all they wanted to, and talk. - -And then, suddenly, they could look at me too. Because I was called as -the thirteenth juror on the John Hastings trial. - - * * * * * - -I walked into it after a night that held no sleep. And looked at -it. The yawning amphitheatre where humanity poured. And saw it. The -thirteen chairs raised high in the center. And heard it. The crowd's -susurrus gentling under insistent reminders from a bodiless Questioner. - -I glanced at the faces in the other twelve boxes, recognizing some -of them. Angus Vortler, the psychosurgeon. William Bax, head of -Intergalactic, a bleak, wintery man who doodled constantly. Dollar -signs, probably. Fred Kitson, of the horny palms, chief mechanic on the -_Darkness_. All men who, because they had once reached out and touched -hands with John Hastings, were now called to judge him. Several of them -nodded to me as I took my place. - -Wait. - -They brought him in. I remembered the first time I had ever seen -him, in the classroom. Eager and tall ... tall and eager. Lord, what -changed him? Something had taken the straightness from his shoulders, -the sureness from his stride. There were furrows on his face where the -tears had already been. - -He stood silently in the box where they had put him. A box just big -enough for his bulky body, and maybe a little of the misery he carried -with him. - -A voice spoke. - -"This, John Hastings, is your trial. You stand before this Court of -Truth-Probity, accused of registering the emotion of hate. A hatred -so violent, that had we permitted you to carry out your anticipated -actions, it would have resulted in the murder of one Mary Hastings, -your wife. Do you understand the charge?" - -"I do." He didn't know what to do with his hands. - -"How do you plead?" - -"I plead not guilty." - -"On what ground?" asked the voice. - -The defendant raised his head. "On the ground that I had good and -sufficient reason to justify my emotion." - -"The reactographs on your wife, Mary Hastings, have been thoroughly -examined, and it has been determined that she performed no act which in -any way deviated from the norm. Had any disturbances taken place within -Mary Hastings during the week of last March ninth to sixteenth, it -would have shown up plainly in a flux on the charts. Your contention is -impossible." - -The man in the box bit his lip. "Nevertheless, I contend it. My wife -gave me sufficient reason. She--she was unfaithful to me." - -Only silence for a full minute. - -"It is impossible." - -"_But_ true!" Hastings shouted. - -The multitude leaned forward, a misted inquiry rustling its skirts. - -"Very well," the voice almost sighed. "Will you submit, Captain -Hastings, to the use of the concentric screen? We wish to know more of -the circumstances surrounding several pertinent dates." - -His face was the color of picked bones. "Yes, I will submit." - -Two men advanced carrying a mesh complexity between them. Placing it -over the defendant's head they allowed it to fall to his shoulders. - -"Are you ready, John Hastings?" - -"Yes." It seemed he was already gone from the place. - -"Then concentrate. Remember. Permit your mind to have freedom." The -voice washed over him in waves. "It is a day in December ... the -fourteenth.... Take my words and let them carry you...." - -The screen above the defendant's head began to cloud and draw in. - -"It is cold outside ... the snow is falling. There is a warm room. A -fire is burning...." - -The mists opalesced and formed a nucleus. - -"There is a pool of light on the desk, unexpected flowers in a bowl, -the odor of duck, roasted brown...." - -Something was struggling for existence in the screen. - -"There is a brown-haired woman--" - -And the image was born.... - - * * * * * - -She bent over a card. "Candlelight, best service for two, white wine, -celebration atmosphere," she wrote and put it into the dining table -selector. Somewhere an orchestra started playing Debussy. - -"John," she called. "Almost ready." - -A card shot back at her from the mirror as she passed. "Your nose is -shiny," it read. She powdered quickly, taming wisps of hair as an -afterthought. - -"Any further comments?" she wanted to know, and held out her hand. A -second card appeared. "I can't whistle." - -Her laughter brimmed over, laced in delight. "John, dinner's ready." - -She called into three rooms, empty rooms. Crossing to the terrace, she -opened a door on the night. Snowflakes rode in on an icy draft. - -"Well?" - -"John! What are you doing out there? I can't even see you." - -"That seems to be one of your habits recently." - -She drew him inside, and leaned against the door, closing. "Is it going -to be like that tonight?" - -"Maybe." His face was steeped in cold. - -"Please. Not the day before you go." - -The white crystals on his hair melted into drops, and a sudden warmth -strained all harshness from his voice. "No, you're right, Mary. Not the -day before I go." - -Pushing him toward the fire, Mary took his cloak. "Didn't you notice?" - -"What?" - -"The table, silly. It's 'Happy Homecoming' tonight!" - -"Leavestaking, you mean." - -"No, homecoming. It's not December. It's August. You've just opened -the front door and said, 'Mary, I'm home!' And all the time in between -hasn't been. It never will be." - -He smiled for the first time. - -"Now that's better." - -The woman handed John Hastings a goblet, plump with yellow liquid. "To -August, dear," she said, and raised her glass. "To the moment your foot -touches Earth again. And to the wine ... warm and golden, like our life -together." - -"Let's eat," he said. "Let's not ask questions." He faltered in a lack -of direction. - -"Wait a minute." - -"For what?" - -"For the questions you can't ask." The gaiety was gone. It was real -now. "I think it's time we swept out the corners." - -John nodded, his face slack. - -"You've been strange lately." - -"Oh that!" he shrugged. "Let's say it's the getting ready ... the heart -plunge just before you jump into space." - -"No." It was definite. "It's more than that. You've been a rocket man -all your life. You don't get nervous any more." - -His fingers twisted the glass. Something else twisted his voice. "There -are things in it that might make a man nervous, Mary. Black winds. -Burning worlds. Holes in space waiting for him. You think it might be -that, Mary?" - -"No." - -"But this is Alpha Centauri. This is faster-than-light." He bowed. -"This is when baby-God Hastings tests his brain child ... when the -electron lightscope goes to bat. You think it might be that, Mary?" - -"Don't make nasty fun." - - * * * * * - -Her husband regarded her a long, serious moment. "No. You're right -again." Leaning in to her, he spoke softly. "Did you know, Mary, that -it isn't the big things that make a man nervous any more? Only the -little things--" - -"Say it!" she insisted. "Get it out. You'll feel better." - -He hadn't moved. "Just the very little things. A supper unradiated. An -empty wrap hanger. An unfilled chair. Emptiness where there should be -something." - -"Where has there been emptiness?" Mary was surprised. - -"Between us." - -"Oh darling ... that just isn't so." - -"Isn't it?" He took her hands. "Cards on the table, Mary. Right?" - -"Right!" - -"You've been going to meetings for the last month." - -"It's my turn on the committee." - -"You've been out late quite a bit." - -"I can't leave till they check me out...." - -"There have been other people there." - -She pulled her hands away and escaped to the other side of the room. -"Lots of them." - -"But there was _one_ face in particular." - -"Oh." There was a finality in it. "Who told you?" - -"Does that matter?" His hand waved it aside. "Why didn't you tell me -Charles Lathrop was on the committee with you?" - -"Because I knew how you'd feel." Instantly, she was at his side. "Oh -darling, don't you suppose I know what you think? You've never accepted -the fact that when I married you, my feeling for him was over and done." - -"Is that true?" - -"Yes, yes, yes! Can't you understand? What I felt for him four or five -years ago was that young thing everyone goes through." - -"Young things grow. Great oaks...." - -"Not this one. When you came, it was over. Is over." - -He shook his head, and passed his hand over his face. "God knows I want -to believe that. You're my wife, Mary. I love every bit of you. But -Lathrop keeps bobbing up." - -The fire crackled like dry leaves, rouging the unhappy walls. "There -are more questions?" she wanted to know. - -"Yes." - -"Ask them." - -"Did you know he was going to be on the committee?" - -"Of course not." - -"Forgive me, Mary, but--but have you spent any extra time with him?" - -"Oh John! We _talk_ at the meetings--'Hello--it's a roaring day--have -you heard the latest about Ganymede?'" - -"That's all?" - -"I swear." - -"You don't feel anything?" - -"Nothing. Absolutely nothing. He's a friend, a brother, a comfortable -dog." - -The stiffness went out of Hastings. He sank back breathing hard, as -if he had been running too fast. "Mary, you don't know how good that -hears. You just don't know!" - -"Oh my darling!" She held his head in her arms, her mouth close to his -ear. "Has it been this, all these months?" - -The man nodded, laughing a little. "I just couldn't take the thought -that maybe--" - -"Hush, hush! Don't even say it any more. Drink the wine and remember -what I said ... 'To its warm glow, like our home together.'" - -His hand reached out, and trembling slightly, the fingers grasped, and -fumbled, and clutched at air. The glass shattered prettily, spilling -its golden life on the unalterable stone throat of the hearth. - -And they stood there, hands untouching. Watching the glistening -fragments trap the last warm glow of the fire. - - * * * * * - -"Enough, enough," a voice said. "You will rechannel your thoughts, -Captain Hastings. There is another day in time." - -The screen misted, and the veils swirled. - -"March eleventh ... on a ship ... a glazed splinter in blackness...." - -The curtains quivered. - -"Men gather tight against the void ... a clarinet wails ... there is -the smell of sweat...." - -Kitson and Holmes were doing a dance. They had their breechskins rolled -over their knees, and four grapefruit tied to their fronts. - -"Take it off ... take it off ... _take it off_!" The men rode a ground -swell of tinny music. Rhythm stamped out in the pattern of magnetic -boots fought with the sucking sound of beer cans. The air curled with -smoke. - -Above their heads a hatch opened, and the Captain's legs appeared, -descending ladderwise. Abruptly, the melee subsided into leftover -clarinet tones. - -"Mr. Kitson." - -Kitson brought himself to attention, his grapefruit swinging. "Sir?" - -"I've been informed there was news from home." The men looked at one -another. - -"Only the broadcast from the Sector, sir. Nothing unusual." - -"You took it down on the tapes?" - -"Yes, sir." - -"I should like to hear it." From one corner a reluctant shuffling -replaced the lately dead downbeats. The reproducer scratched badly. - -"... at a banquet given for members of the committee. Prominent among -the guests was Mrs. Mary A. Hastings, wife of Captain John Hastings who -is making history in his FTL flight to Alpha Centauri. Captain Hastings -will test his invention, the electron-lightscope, from our neighboring -sun. It is reliably reported that the lightscope will revolutionize -astral observation, in that it will replace the telescope, and will -bring distant galaxies to within a few hundred feet of the earth. - -"Mrs. Hastings, smartly gowned, was seated next to Co-ordinator Charles -Lathrop, who had--" - -Someone jostled into the machine. The groove was lost. - -Hastings spoke slowly. "I'd like to hear the rest of it." - -Kitson was carefully unrolling his breechskins. - -"I'd like to hear the rest of it, I said." - -"Yes, sir," someone murmured. - -"... was seated next to Charles Lathrop, who had escorted her to the -banquet, in the absence of the Captain. They danced frequently to the -strains of the Deimos Orchestra which was rocketed here for the pro--" - -"That's enough," said Hastings, staring whitely. - -The mechanic took two steps toward him. "Is something wrong, sir? You -look ill." - -"Not at all, Mr. Kitson, not at all." His eyes snapped back to the man -in front of him, astraddle a newborn idea. "I was merely considering -Peeping Toms, Mr. Kitson." - -"Beg pardon, Sir?" - -"Peeping Toms. Never heard of them, have you?" - -"No, sir. I don't think any of us have." - -"What a pity. A most fascinating subject. Found in a twentieth century -history of the minor vices." - -"Yes, sir." - -"You display no curiosity, Mr. Kitson." His eyebrows raised. "In this, -you differ significantly from our Peeping Tom. _He_ wanted to know -a great many things, and he settled the whole matter with a pair of -binoculars." His voice sounded like scraped stone. "Yes indeed--_a pair -of binoculars_." - -"I'm afraid I wasn't subjected to that facet of knowledge -indoctrination, sir." Kitson shrugged imperceptibly. When the captain -got like this--his shoulders spoke for him. - -Hastings had caught the movement, however. "You find my words -uninstructive?" - -"No, sir--I mean--" - -"Very well." Something was growing big in the man. "Since you view your -deficiencies so lightly, you may report for punishment duty in the -morning." - -"But, sir! I only said--" - -"That will be all, Mr. Kitson." Hastings climbed the ladder, an ear -splitting silence hurrying him upward. His face appeared through -the hatch. A face withdrawn behind vacant eyes, ready to crumble. -"Remember, Kitson, I'll see you topside tomorrow. You will endeavor to -compensate for this most regrettable omission in your education, while -I--I will contemplate the advantages of twentieth century sins." - -The hatch closed. - -Everyone was suddenly very busy. Holmes picked up empty beer containers -and threw them into the deatomizer. A big sandy man laced and unlaced -the binding-pad on his bunk. Kitson sat down and stared vacantly. - -After three or four minutes he said something. - -"The sonovagun," he said. "The poor, poor, sonovagun." - - * * * * * - -Impersonal words broke into the dream. "We have seen. It is -sufficient." The screen flickered and grew dim. "Can you stand further -probing, Captain? May we proceed?" - -"Yes." - -"There is yet one more time. March fifteenth." - -"I remember." - -"Then relax ... drift. There are two men. They hang above a yellow -sun ... space sleeps at their feet...." - -An image formed and wavered and formed again. - -"Their words are whispered ... they speak softly in the presence of -immensity...." - -It crystallized.... - -"I'm asking as Vortler, your friend. Not Vortler, the psychosurgeon." - -Side by side, they sat in the tattered light of the observation hull. -Centauri lay less than one day ahead. It dangled like a full, blush -peach, their silhouette its only bruised spot. Rockets hummed. - -"There's no use asking any more questions Angus. The time for questions -is past. This is exams." - -"That's what I mean, John. Remarks like that. You've gotten to be a man -who talks to himself." - -Hastings sat without moving a muscle. "What did the men tell you?" - -"Nothing actually." The other made a nasty sound. "No, that's true. I -didn't need them. I've seen it for myself this entire trip." - -"And how do you diagnose it, Doctor?" A whisky bottle gleamed in the -light of the creamy sun. - -"Just like that, he wants it. In two or three words. Where I need -books, where Freud took volumes, he wants it in two or three words." - -"And the doctor doesn't have them," John said. Angus shook his head. -"But I do." He poured from the bottle. "She's seeing Charles." - -Vortler snorted. "You're mistaken." - -"No, I'm not. I've thought about her a lot these last three months, and -I think I know her now." He leaned his head back and shut his eyes. -"She's an August woman, Angus. An August woman. One night a warm breeze -comes through the door and sweeps a girl into your arms. You say -things, and she says things, and you both end up saying 'I do!' Then -she wakes up one morning to find she _doesn't_ any more. And another -door will open, another breeze carry her off." - -"Mary's not like that." - -"I didn't think so in the beginning." - -"You surprise me, John. I thought you had more faith." - -"Not any more. With me, it's what I can touch or smell or hear or see. -Nothing more." - -"Then there's never any proof for you. You can't watch her every -minute." - -John raised himself unsteadily, and stitched his finger into the air. -"That, my dear Doctor, is where you are wrong." He stood and groped his -way into the light of the cabin. Angus followed, trying to see his face. - -"There is something more to this, John. Let's stop the riddles and say -what we mean." - -The captain spun in sharp, stifled anger. "Shall I tell you, Angus? -Shall I let you in on my secret?" The anger detonated. "All right, damn -it! You came here for it. I'll give it to you! You know my lightscope? -Well, it works. It works fine!" - -"What has this--?" - -"Do you know what Johnny-boy has been doing with the blasted thing?" he -cried, "I've been using it to play inquirer. I've been using it to spy -on my wife." - -The doctor's jaw dropped. "You have _what_?" - -"That's right. Night after night, I've come back here. I've set up the -god-dammed thing--and I've scanned." - -"This is incredible!" - -"Three nights ago I found New York. Two nights ago, I co-ordinated -to the Hudson River. Last night I got as far as the third level. -Tonight--" his arms swept a circle--"East Lynne." - -Vortler's hand smashed down. "It's got to stop! There's no reason for -this. I won't permit it." - -"What can you do? It's my lightscope--my ship. My orders supersede -yours." - -Vortler closed the space between them, his fists knobbed white. John -laughed. "Don't overdo it, Angus. I'm not worth it." The sound died to -a chuckle, "Besides, remember your emotiograph. Somebody will spank." - -The doctor's hands opened slowly, a finger at a time. - -"Tell me, Angus. Can you honestly blame me? I suspect my wife. I'm -trying to find out." - -"But you're wrong!" - -"It _could_ be. The thing is possible." He leaned toward the -psychosurgeon. "You think about it and tell me. It's _possible_?" - -Vortler looked defeated. - -"Yes." - -"And that's that." - -Angus started for the barway. "I don't know what started this thing -off, John. Perhaps if a man loves his wife a little too much, a thing -like this can happen. Maybe that's why they've watched our charts so -carefully." - -Hastings was already talking to himself. "If I can just prove it one -way or the other. If I can just know she's--alone." - -The white clad figure paused. "Think it over, John. Change your mind. I -don't like any part of it." - -"Angus," John said softly. "I don't like it either. I don't want the -sight of Mary on that lens! To leave what print? A dream smashed? A -dishonor? Who knows?" - -The doctor shook his head. "Look out the viewplate, John. What do you -see? Planet systems, galaxies, eons. What is one tiny less-than-a-mite -in all of that? What does it mean to you? The mind of the Almighty--or -a few cents worth of bone, and hair, and tissue? Ask yourself, John. -What do you see?" - -He closed the barway behind him. - -John followed and threw the pressure lock. Going to a sleek instrument, -his hands inquired softly along its lines. Cold as space. Sure. Doubt -proof. He swept the litter from his desk, and set the instrument in -its center. Levers spun, mirrors sent out chips of light, adjusters -adjusted. - -Then, pausing, he moved to the viewplate and stood looking out a long -time. His hands mangled themselves constantly behind his back. A star -twinkled--one star in particular--as if through the prism of a cold -tear. - -But he went back to the instrument, and bent to it slowly. And as he -gripped the desk, his knuckles erupted, pale as washed gravestones.... - -_And the graph lines shivered and glowed hot, and the hate came pouring -out of the shining needle between the stars, and somewhere a voice -called into space...._ - - * * * * * - -"Come back, John Hastings, come back," the Questioner said. "You may -return to the present." - -Throbbing, the screen died as a stirring exhalation came from the -crowd. Someone asked for more air. A baby cried, and was lulled to -sleep. - -"We have seen the pictures, Captain Hastings, and we accept them. The -facts were presented as they happened. It is unfortunate that we can -show no evidence of what reached John Hastings' eye as he looked into -the electron-lightscope. Mechanical tabulations cannot be transmitted -to our screen, since its envisioning powers are limited to the sensory -memory patterns of the brain. We must therefore go to the defendant -himself for further evidence." - -They had removed the heavy mesh, but the captain's head remained bowed. - -"Do you swear, John Hastings, that by the power of the God whom we know -to be, and by the strength of your own mind, you will tell us what you -saw in that instrument?" - -"I do so swear." - -"You may proceed." - -He drew himself together. "I found her at her mother's house. Even -though it's vacant now, she liked to go back there occasionally when I -was away." - -The twelve other jurors were leaning forward in their boxes. I could -feel my body itching from the strain. - -"You located her at her mother's house, at 4AH54 on the Third Level, -Eighty-first Sector, west of the Hudson?" - -"I did." - -"Continue." - -"She was sitting on the lawn in front of the house, talking to a man. -His back was toward me." - -"You could not see his face?" - -"Not then." - -"Go on." - -"They talked for a while. Then he moved to her on the grass. She smiled -and they put their arms around one another. He kissed her." - -"What happened then?" - -"He lifted her to her feet, and I saw it was Charles Lathrop. They went -to the door, and she opened it." He found it hard to get the words past -his lips. - -"Please proceed." - -"When she got inside, she turned around and smiled. It looked as if -she was laughing at me. Then she reached out and touched his arm. -She--she--" - -"Please speak louder. She what?" - -"She took him inside and shut the door." - -Heaped silence greeted the words. Men turned quietly and gazed at their -wives, their eyes asking a question for the bewildered, the undecided. - -"John Hastings, we have checked thoroughly. Your wife did spend the -night of the fifteenth in the vacant house of which you speak. She -spent the night, however, alone. Her graphs show no disturbances, no -emotional exhilaration. You are perpetrating an untruth." - -"I'm not. I saw it! I saw it as plainly as I can see the box in which I -am standing now." - -"You could not have seen it." - -"Before my God, I did! I saw every detail. The yellow pannier she wore. -The blue hydrangea bush on the lawn. That broken aneroid beside the -door. Every detail." His voice crescendoed. - -"It is impossible." - - * * * * * - -He raised his fists in the air. "Say it's impossible if you like. -Repeat it a thousand times! But I saw her do it just the same!! I _saw_ -it!" - -Something inside me had pulled tight. Thoughts of the classroom flooded -into my mind. Long forgotten formulae, theories ... somewhere! The -voice droned on, charging the jurors: - -"--having reviewed the evidence--" - -I kept groping toward a page in a book. Somewhere there was a piece -that would fit in. "The majority ballot rules." It was going too fast -for me. They were calling for the vote. - -"Juror Number One, please stand and tell the court; how do you find?" - -With great deliberation, he turned his back on the defendant in the box. - -"Juror Number One designates guilt. Juror Number Two, how do you find?" - -Vortler was second. He stood and gazed at John Hastings for a long -moment. Then he raised his arms toward the defendant, palms upward. - -"Juror Number Two designates innocence." - -I went back to the classroom again and again. There was a thing waiting -there for me, but it had been so long ago. - -The count was going fast.... - -"Juror Number Six, how do you find?" Bax. I knew his vote before he -cast it. He turned his back. - -Where did it stand now? Four guilty, two innocent! - -My heart began to pound. It felt as if I were standing on the edge of a -deep water. Where was it, that I groped after? I tried to shut myself -in and think. - -The semi-circle was almost completed. The voice had reached the juror -on my left. Six men stood with their backs to John Hastings. Five stood -with their arms outstretched, "Juror Number Twelve, how do you find?" - -I asked for help then. I asked the Lord to turn the pages. And I asked -Him to help Kitson too. Kitson raised his arms high. The score was even. - -It waited until then to come. The piece ... the little piece, falling -on my brain from that half-forgotten book. - -"Juror Number Thirteen, how do--?" - -"Mr. Questioner," I cried. "I would like to interpose." - -"It is incorrect procedure to interrupt the vote--" - -"Yes, yes, I know." My voice shook. "But there is something I just -remembered. Something pertinent to what John Hastings saw." - -"Can it prove anything further one way or the other?" - -"I think so." - -An unseen conference. "Very well. Dispensation granted. What is your -information?" - -I took a deep breath. "John Hastings viewed his wife on Earth from one -of the planets of Alpha Centauri." - -"That is correct." - -My tongue was dry; my hands wet. - -"Alpha Centauri is four years, four months distant, measuring in light -years. Therefore, in his travel, John Hastings lost three of those -months, but when he turned his instrument backward, he was looking at -light images which had started from the Earth long before he ever left -it. He was looking at--" - -"_At ... what happened four years ago...._" John Hastings had finished -the sentence for me. He was looking at something as if it were the -first sunrise he had ever known. - -Speculation brought the amphitheatre to its feet. For the only time -during the trial, the mob found its voice. Uncertainty, relief and -surprise mingled, ebbed and flowed. - -The voice called for attention. "Quiet, please, quiet. The information -is correct," and the storm was over. - -"Since the jury is thus far hung, we will leave the decision to the -last, thirteenth talisman. We would like your vote, Juror Thirteen. How -do you find?" - -John looked at me. It was the first time since they had brought him in. - -And I stretched my arms out toward him.... - -Who can say whether I was right or wrong? It is too delicate a thing to -come out all white or all black. But I think that in order for a man to -hate a woman so very much, it is also necessary for him to have loved -her very much, too. - -And sometimes, I wake up, shaking, in the night. I am thinking of what -might have happened if I hadn't remembered that old discarded pannier, -or the way Mother transplanted the blue hydrangea bush before she died, -or how Dad swore when she made him throw that aneroid away. If I hadn't -remembered those things, I would never have seen the look on John's -face as he walked into my outstretched arms and said: "Is it time for -us to go home now, Mary? Is it?" - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE THIRTEENTH JUROR *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The thirteenth juror</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Leslie Waltham</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: October 23, 2022 [eBook #69213]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net.</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE THIRTEENTH JUROR ***</div> - -<div class="titlepage"> - -<h1>The 13TH JUROR</h1> - -<h2>By LESLIE WALTHAM</h2> - -<p>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br /> -Startling Stories Summer 1955.<br /> -Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br /> -the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]</p> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>Excerpt taken from "THE HISTORY OF TRIAL PROCEDURE, 2175 TO 2543, A.D." -written by Prof. A. I. Schule, S.E.D.:</p> - -<p>"Even then, in the beginning of the twenty-third century, crime per -se, itself had ceased to exist. The lower emotions had already been -bred out of the people. Envy, hate, avarice and kindred responses were -virtually non-existent. Every citizen had a crude type of emotiograph -attached to his person, which was examined periodically by the Eye. If -any deviation from the norm was observed, the accused was called up for -questioning.</p> - -<p>"In the absence of actual crime, any emotion which might have -precipitated crime was considered unlawful, and men were tried for -too much anger, or too little pity. The only purpose of a trial was -to ascertain whether sufficient provocation could be established to -warrant a given reaction. If the cause, or the incident, justified the -emotional response, the defendant was exculpated.</p> - -<p>"Trial procedure was extremely simple. The use of the witness was -obsolete. Above the defendant's box was a concentric screen upon which -his thoughts could be projected. The Questioner would channel the -thoughts of the accused into whatever date periods were pertinent, and -in that way, the defendant reviewed his own case.</p> - -<p>"It is into this category that the celebrated, and very controversial, -John Hastings case falls. You all remember that, of course, as the -'cause cêlêbre' of the year 2375 A.D."</p> - -<p>No. Amer. Sec., Book Two, p. 675.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>One night they watched a column of flame lift a silver speck into the -sky. And one night, much later, they heard a voice call into space, -saying, "Come back, John Hastings, come back.</p> - -<p>"Our inspection has shown serious deviations in your emotiograph. You -will turn your rocket and rechart for Earth, John Hastings. For trial, -John Hastings."</p> - -<p>And they came to the trial. Out of the ripe, wet hills, down from the -blistering dome over the city, up through the shafts of the gritty -Substructure. They came and stood in lines, wiping the August sweat -from their eyes, littering the levels with orange peels as they ate. -Women, with babies strapped to their shoulders, and suppers left -unradiated on the cooker. Men, with lead-shielded faces, and tools -laid aside in the middle of a movement. But they came, and stood and -jostled one another, milling and gossiping:</p> - -<p>"Gonna be some trial!"</p> - -<p>"... might even resort to electrocution...."</p> - -<p>"Naw, that's dark time methods."</p> - -<p>"Oh yeah?"</p> - -<p>Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah....</p> - -<p>But they felt good, the people, for it wasn't their trial. The words -could come easy and undammed, for it was John Hastings who was on -trial. They could look at him all they wanted to, and talk.</p> - -<p>And then, suddenly, they could look at me too. Because I was called as -the thirteenth juror on the John Hastings trial.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>I walked into it after a night that held no sleep. And looked at -it. The yawning amphitheatre where humanity poured. And saw it. The -thirteen chairs raised high in the center. And heard it. The crowd's -susurrus gentling under insistent reminders from a bodiless Questioner.</p> - -<p>I glanced at the faces in the other twelve boxes, recognizing some -of them. Angus Vortler, the psychosurgeon. William Bax, head of -Intergalactic, a bleak, wintery man who doodled constantly. Dollar -signs, probably. Fred Kitson, of the horny palms, chief mechanic on the -<i>Darkness</i>. All men who, because they had once reached out and touched -hands with John Hastings, were now called to judge him. Several of them -nodded to me as I took my place.</p> - -<p>Wait.</p> - -<p>They brought him in. I remembered the first time I had ever seen -him, in the classroom. Eager and tall ... tall and eager. Lord, what -changed him? Something had taken the straightness from his shoulders, -the sureness from his stride. There were furrows on his face where the -tears had already been.</p> - -<p>He stood silently in the box where they had put him. A box just big -enough for his bulky body, and maybe a little of the misery he carried -with him.</p> - -<p>A voice spoke.</p> - -<p>"This, John Hastings, is your trial. You stand before this Court of -Truth-Probity, accused of registering the emotion of hate. A hatred -so violent, that had we permitted you to carry out your anticipated -actions, it would have resulted in the murder of one Mary Hastings, -your wife. Do you understand the charge?"</p> - -<p>"I do." He didn't know what to do with his hands.</p> - -<p>"How do you plead?"</p> - -<p>"I plead not guilty."</p> - -<p>"On what ground?" asked the voice.</p> - -<p>The defendant raised his head. "On the ground that I had good and -sufficient reason to justify my emotion."</p> - -<p>"The reactographs on your wife, Mary Hastings, have been thoroughly -examined, and it has been determined that she performed no act which in -any way deviated from the norm. Had any disturbances taken place within -Mary Hastings during the week of last March ninth to sixteenth, it -would have shown up plainly in a flux on the charts. Your contention is -impossible."</p> - -<p>The man in the box bit his lip. "Nevertheless, I contend it. My wife -gave me sufficient reason. She—she was unfaithful to me."</p> - -<p>Only silence for a full minute.</p> - -<p>"It is impossible."</p> - -<p>"<i>But</i> true!" Hastings shouted.</p> - -<p>The multitude leaned forward, a misted inquiry rustling its skirts.</p> - -<p>"Very well," the voice almost sighed. "Will you submit, Captain -Hastings, to the use of the concentric screen? We wish to know more of -the circumstances surrounding several pertinent dates."</p> - -<p>His face was the color of picked bones. "Yes, I will submit."</p> - -<p>Two men advanced carrying a mesh complexity between them. Placing it -over the defendant's head they allowed it to fall to his shoulders.</p> - -<p>"Are you ready, John Hastings?"</p> - -<p>"Yes." It seemed he was already gone from the place.</p> - -<p>"Then concentrate. Remember. Permit your mind to have freedom." The -voice washed over him in waves. "It is a day in December ... the -fourteenth.... Take my words and let them carry you...."</p> - -<p>The screen above the defendant's head began to cloud and draw in.</p> - -<p>"It is cold outside ... the snow is falling. There is a warm room. A -fire is burning...."</p> - -<p>The mists opalesced and formed a nucleus.</p> - -<p>"There is a pool of light on the desk, unexpected flowers in a bowl, -the odor of duck, roasted brown...."</p> - -<p>Something was struggling for existence in the screen.</p> - -<p>"There is a brown-haired woman—"</p> - -<p>And the image was born....</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>She bent over a card. "Candlelight, best service for two, white wine, -celebration atmosphere," she wrote and put it into the dining table -selector. Somewhere an orchestra started playing Debussy.</p> - -<p>"John," she called. "Almost ready."</p> - -<p>A card shot back at her from the mirror as she passed. "Your nose is -shiny," it read. She powdered quickly, taming wisps of hair as an -afterthought.</p> - -<p>"Any further comments?" she wanted to know, and held out her hand. A -second card appeared. "I can't whistle."</p> - -<p>Her laughter brimmed over, laced in delight. "John, dinner's ready."</p> - -<p>She called into three rooms, empty rooms. Crossing to the terrace, she -opened a door on the night. Snowflakes rode in on an icy draft.</p> - -<p>"Well?"</p> - -<p>"John! What are you doing out there? I can't even see you."</p> - -<p>"That seems to be one of your habits recently."</p> - -<p>She drew him inside, and leaned against the door, closing. "Is it going -to be like that tonight?"</p> - -<p>"Maybe." His face was steeped in cold.</p> - -<p>"Please. Not the day before you go."</p> - -<p>The white crystals on his hair melted into drops, and a sudden warmth -strained all harshness from his voice. "No, you're right, Mary. Not the -day before I go."</p> - -<p>Pushing him toward the fire, Mary took his cloak. "Didn't you notice?"</p> - -<p>"What?"</p> - -<p>"The table, silly. It's 'Happy Homecoming' tonight!"</p> - -<p>"Leavestaking, you mean."</p> - -<p>"No, homecoming. It's not December. It's August. You've just opened -the front door and said, 'Mary, I'm home!' And all the time in between -hasn't been. It never will be."</p> - -<p>He smiled for the first time.</p> - -<p>"Now that's better."</p> - -<p>The woman handed John Hastings a goblet, plump with yellow liquid. "To -August, dear," she said, and raised her glass. "To the moment your foot -touches Earth again. And to the wine ... warm and golden, like our life -together."</p> - -<p>"Let's eat," he said. "Let's not ask questions." He faltered in a lack -of direction.</p> - -<p>"Wait a minute."</p> - -<p>"For what?"</p> - -<p>"For the questions you can't ask." The gaiety was gone. It was real -now. "I think it's time we swept out the corners."</p> - -<p>John nodded, his face slack.</p> - -<p>"You've been strange lately."</p> - -<p>"Oh that!" he shrugged. "Let's say it's the getting ready ... the heart -plunge just before you jump into space."</p> - -<p>"No." It was definite. "It's more than that. You've been a rocket man -all your life. You don't get nervous any more."</p> - -<p>His fingers twisted the glass. Something else twisted his voice. "There -are things in it that might make a man nervous, Mary. Black winds. -Burning worlds. Holes in space waiting for him. You think it might be -that, Mary?"</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p>"But this is Alpha Centauri. This is faster-than-light." He bowed. -"This is when baby-God Hastings tests his brain child ... when the -electron lightscope goes to bat. You think it might be that, Mary?"</p> - -<p>"Don't make nasty fun."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Her husband regarded her a long, serious moment. "No. You're right -again." Leaning in to her, he spoke softly. "Did you know, Mary, that -it isn't the big things that make a man nervous any more? Only the -little things—"</p> - -<p>"Say it!" she insisted. "Get it out. You'll feel better."</p> - -<p>He hadn't moved. "Just the very little things. A supper unradiated. An -empty wrap hanger. An unfilled chair. Emptiness where there should be -something."</p> - -<p>"Where has there been emptiness?" Mary was surprised.</p> - -<p>"Between us."</p> - -<p>"Oh darling ... that just isn't so."</p> - -<p>"Isn't it?" He took her hands. "Cards on the table, Mary. Right?"</p> - -<p>"Right!"</p> - -<p>"You've been going to meetings for the last month."</p> - -<p>"It's my turn on the committee."</p> - -<p>"You've been out late quite a bit."</p> - -<p>"I can't leave till they check me out...."</p> - -<p>"There have been other people there."</p> - -<p>She pulled her hands away and escaped to the other side of the room. -"Lots of them."</p> - -<p>"But there was <i>one</i> face in particular."</p> - -<p>"Oh." There was a finality in it. "Who told you?"</p> - -<p>"Does that matter?" His hand waved it aside. "Why didn't you tell me -Charles Lathrop was on the committee with you?"</p> - -<p>"Because I knew how you'd feel." Instantly, she was at his side. "Oh -darling, don't you suppose I know what you think? You've never accepted -the fact that when I married you, my feeling for him was over and done."</p> - -<p>"Is that true?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, yes, yes! Can't you understand? What I felt for him four or five -years ago was that young thing everyone goes through."</p> - -<p>"Young things grow. Great oaks...."</p> - -<p>"Not this one. When you came, it was over. Is over."</p> - -<p>He shook his head, and passed his hand over his face. "God knows I want -to believe that. You're my wife, Mary. I love every bit of you. But -Lathrop keeps bobbing up."</p> - -<p>The fire crackled like dry leaves, rouging the unhappy walls. "There -are more questions?" she wanted to know.</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"Ask them."</p> - -<p>"Did you know he was going to be on the committee?"</p> - -<p>"Of course not."</p> - -<p>"Forgive me, Mary, but—but have you spent any extra time with him?"</p> - -<p>"Oh John! We <i>talk</i> at the meetings—'Hello—it's a roaring day—have -you heard the latest about Ganymede?'"</p> - -<p>"That's all?"</p> - -<p>"I swear."</p> - -<p>"You don't feel anything?"</p> - -<p>"Nothing. Absolutely nothing. He's a friend, a brother, a comfortable -dog."</p> - -<p>The stiffness went out of Hastings. He sank back breathing hard, as -if he had been running too fast. "Mary, you don't know how good that -hears. You just don't know!"</p> - -<p>"Oh my darling!" She held his head in her arms, her mouth close to his -ear. "Has it been this, all these months?"</p> - -<p>The man nodded, laughing a little. "I just couldn't take the thought -that maybe—"</p> - -<p>"Hush, hush! Don't even say it any more. Drink the wine and remember -what I said ... 'To its warm glow, like our home together.'"</p> - -<p>His hand reached out, and trembling slightly, the fingers grasped, and -fumbled, and clutched at air. The glass shattered prettily, spilling -its golden life on the unalterable stone throat of the hearth.</p> - -<p>And they stood there, hands untouching. Watching the glistening -fragments trap the last warm glow of the fire.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>"Enough, enough," a voice said. "You will rechannel your thoughts, -Captain Hastings. There is another day in time."</p> - -<p>The screen misted, and the veils swirled.</p> - -<p>"March eleventh ... on a ship ... a glazed splinter in blackness...."</p> - -<p>The curtains quivered.</p> - -<p>"Men gather tight against the void ... a clarinet wails ... there is -the smell of sweat...."</p> - -<p>Kitson and Holmes were doing a dance. They had their breechskins rolled -over their knees, and four grapefruit tied to their fronts.</p> - -<p>"Take it off ... take it off ... <i>take it off</i>!" The men rode a ground -swell of tinny music. Rhythm stamped out in the pattern of magnetic -boots fought with the sucking sound of beer cans. The air curled with -smoke.</p> - -<p>Above their heads a hatch opened, and the Captain's legs appeared, -descending ladderwise. Abruptly, the melee subsided into leftover -clarinet tones.</p> - -<p>"Mr. Kitson."</p> - -<p>Kitson brought himself to attention, his grapefruit swinging. "Sir?"</p> - -<p>"I've been informed there was news from home." The men looked at one -another.</p> - -<p>"Only the broadcast from the Sector, sir. Nothing unusual."</p> - -<p>"You took it down on the tapes?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir."</p> - -<p>"I should like to hear it." From one corner a reluctant shuffling -replaced the lately dead downbeats. The reproducer scratched badly.</p> - -<p>"... at a banquet given for members of the committee. Prominent among -the guests was Mrs. Mary A. Hastings, wife of Captain John Hastings who -is making history in his FTL flight to Alpha Centauri. Captain Hastings -will test his invention, the electron-lightscope, from our neighboring -sun. It is reliably reported that the lightscope will revolutionize -astral observation, in that it will replace the telescope, and will -bring distant galaxies to within a few hundred feet of the earth.</p> - -<p>"Mrs. Hastings, smartly gowned, was seated next to Co-ordinator Charles -Lathrop, who had—"</p> - -<p>Someone jostled into the machine. The groove was lost.</p> - -<p>Hastings spoke slowly. "I'd like to hear the rest of it."</p> - -<p>Kitson was carefully unrolling his breechskins.</p> - -<p>"I'd like to hear the rest of it, I said."</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir," someone murmured.</p> - -<p>"... was seated next to Charles Lathrop, who had escorted her to the -banquet, in the absence of the Captain. They danced frequently to the -strains of the Deimos Orchestra which was rocketed here for the pro—"</p> - -<p>"That's enough," said Hastings, staring whitely.</p> - -<p>The mechanic took two steps toward him. "Is something wrong, sir? You -look ill."</p> - -<p>"Not at all, Mr. Kitson, not at all." His eyes snapped back to the man -in front of him, astraddle a newborn idea. "I was merely considering -Peeping Toms, Mr. Kitson."</p> - -<p>"Beg pardon, Sir?"</p> - -<p>"Peeping Toms. Never heard of them, have you?"</p> - -<p>"No, sir. I don't think any of us have."</p> - -<p>"What a pity. A most fascinating subject. Found in a twentieth century -history of the minor vices."</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir."</p> - -<p>"You display no curiosity, Mr. Kitson." His eyebrows raised. "In this, -you differ significantly from our Peeping Tom. <i>He</i> wanted to know -a great many things, and he settled the whole matter with a pair of -binoculars." His voice sounded like scraped stone. "Yes indeed—<i>a pair -of binoculars</i>."</p> - -<p>"I'm afraid I wasn't subjected to that facet of knowledge -indoctrination, sir." Kitson shrugged imperceptibly. When the captain -got like this—his shoulders spoke for him.</p> - -<p>Hastings had caught the movement, however. "You find my words -uninstructive?"</p> - -<p>"No, sir—I mean—"</p> - -<p>"Very well." Something was growing big in the man. "Since you view your -deficiencies so lightly, you may report for punishment duty in the -morning."</p> - -<p>"But, sir! I only said—"</p> - -<p>"That will be all, Mr. Kitson." Hastings climbed the ladder, an ear -splitting silence hurrying him upward. His face appeared through -the hatch. A face withdrawn behind vacant eyes, ready to crumble. -"Remember, Kitson, I'll see you topside tomorrow. You will endeavor to -compensate for this most regrettable omission in your education, while -I—I will contemplate the advantages of twentieth century sins."</p> - -<p>The hatch closed.</p> - -<p>Everyone was suddenly very busy. Holmes picked up empty beer containers -and threw them into the deatomizer. A big sandy man laced and unlaced -the binding-pad on his bunk. Kitson sat down and stared vacantly.</p> - -<p>After three or four minutes he said something.</p> - -<p>"The sonovagun," he said. "The poor, poor, sonovagun."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Impersonal words broke into the dream. "We have seen. It is -sufficient." The screen flickered and grew dim. "Can you stand further -probing, Captain? May we proceed?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"There is yet one more time. March fifteenth."</p> - -<p>"I remember."</p> - -<p>"Then relax ... drift. There are two men. They hang above a yellow -sun ... space sleeps at their feet...."</p> - -<p>An image formed and wavered and formed again.</p> - -<p>"Their words are whispered ... they speak softly in the presence of -immensity...."</p> - -<p>It crystallized....</p> - -<p>"I'm asking as Vortler, your friend. Not Vortler, the psychosurgeon."</p> - -<p>Side by side, they sat in the tattered light of the observation hull. -Centauri lay less than one day ahead. It dangled like a full, blush -peach, their silhouette its only bruised spot. Rockets hummed.</p> - -<p>"There's no use asking any more questions Angus. The time for questions -is past. This is exams."</p> - -<p>"That's what I mean, John. Remarks like that. You've gotten to be a man -who talks to himself."</p> - -<p>Hastings sat without moving a muscle. "What did the men tell you?"</p> - -<p>"Nothing actually." The other made a nasty sound. "No, that's true. I -didn't need them. I've seen it for myself this entire trip."</p> - -<p>"And how do you diagnose it, Doctor?" A whisky bottle gleamed in the -light of the creamy sun.</p> - -<p>"Just like that, he wants it. In two or three words. Where I need -books, where Freud took volumes, he wants it in two or three words."</p> - -<p>"And the doctor doesn't have them," John said. Angus shook his head. -"But I do." He poured from the bottle. "She's seeing Charles."</p> - -<p>Vortler snorted. "You're mistaken."</p> - -<p>"No, I'm not. I've thought about her a lot these last three months, and -I think I know her now." He leaned his head back and shut his eyes. -"She's an August woman, Angus. An August woman. One night a warm breeze -comes through the door and sweeps a girl into your arms. You say -things, and she says things, and you both end up saying 'I do!' Then -she wakes up one morning to find she <i>doesn't</i> any more. And another -door will open, another breeze carry her off."</p> - -<p>"Mary's not like that."</p> - -<p>"I didn't think so in the beginning."</p> - -<p>"You surprise me, John. I thought you had more faith."</p> - -<p>"Not any more. With me, it's what I can touch or smell or hear or see. -Nothing more."</p> - -<p>"Then there's never any proof for you. You can't watch her every -minute."</p> - -<p>John raised himself unsteadily, and stitched his finger into the air. -"That, my dear Doctor, is where you are wrong." He stood and groped his -way into the light of the cabin. Angus followed, trying to see his face.</p> - -<p>"There is something more to this, John. Let's stop the riddles and say -what we mean."</p> - -<p>The captain spun in sharp, stifled anger. "Shall I tell you, Angus? -Shall I let you in on my secret?" The anger detonated. "All right, damn -it! You came here for it. I'll give it to you! You know my lightscope? -Well, it works. It works fine!"</p> - -<p>"What has this—?"</p> - -<p>"Do you know what Johnny-boy has been doing with the blasted thing?" he -cried, "I've been using it to play inquirer. I've been using it to spy -on my wife."</p> - -<p>The doctor's jaw dropped. "You have <i>what</i>?"</p> - -<p>"That's right. Night after night, I've come back here. I've set up the -god-dammed thing—and I've scanned."</p> - -<p>"This is incredible!"</p> - -<p>"Three nights ago I found New York. Two nights ago, I co-ordinated -to the Hudson River. Last night I got as far as the third level. -Tonight—" his arms swept a circle—"East Lynne."</p> - -<p>Vortler's hand smashed down. "It's got to stop! There's no reason for -this. I won't permit it."</p> - -<p>"What can you do? It's my lightscope—my ship. My orders supersede -yours."</p> - -<p>Vortler closed the space between them, his fists knobbed white. John -laughed. "Don't overdo it, Angus. I'm not worth it." The sound died to -a chuckle, "Besides, remember your emotiograph. Somebody will spank."</p> - -<p>The doctor's hands opened slowly, a finger at a time.</p> - -<p>"Tell me, Angus. Can you honestly blame me? I suspect my wife. I'm -trying to find out."</p> - -<p>"But you're wrong!"</p> - -<p>"It <i>could</i> be. The thing is possible." He leaned toward the -psychosurgeon. "You think about it and tell me. It's <i>possible</i>?"</p> - -<p>Vortler looked defeated.</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"And that's that."</p> - -<p>Angus started for the barway. "I don't know what started this thing -off, John. Perhaps if a man loves his wife a little too much, a thing -like this can happen. Maybe that's why they've watched our charts so -carefully."</p> - -<p>Hastings was already talking to himself. "If I can just prove it one -way or the other. If I can just know she's—alone."</p> - -<p>The white clad figure paused. "Think it over, John. Change your mind. I -don't like any part of it."</p> - -<p>"Angus," John said softly. "I don't like it either. I don't want the -sight of Mary on that lens! To leave what print? A dream smashed? A -dishonor? Who knows?"</p> - -<p>The doctor shook his head. "Look out the viewplate, John. What do you -see? Planet systems, galaxies, eons. What is one tiny less-than-a-mite -in all of that? What does it mean to you? The mind of the Almighty—or -a few cents worth of bone, and hair, and tissue? Ask yourself, John. -What do you see?"</p> - -<p>He closed the barway behind him.</p> - -<p>John followed and threw the pressure lock. Going to a sleek instrument, -his hands inquired softly along its lines. Cold as space. Sure. Doubt -proof. He swept the litter from his desk, and set the instrument in -its center. Levers spun, mirrors sent out chips of light, adjusters -adjusted.</p> - -<p>Then, pausing, he moved to the viewplate and stood looking out a long -time. His hands mangled themselves constantly behind his back. A star -twinkled—one star in particular—as if through the prism of a cold -tear.</p> - -<p>But he went back to the instrument, and bent to it slowly. And as he -gripped the desk, his knuckles erupted, pale as washed gravestones....</p> - -<p><i>And the graph lines shivered and glowed hot, and the hate came pouring -out of the shining needle between the stars, and somewhere a voice -called into space....</i></p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>"Come back, John Hastings, come back," the Questioner said. "You may -return to the present."</p> - -<p>Throbbing, the screen died as a stirring exhalation came from the -crowd. Someone asked for more air. A baby cried, and was lulled to -sleep.</p> - -<p>"We have seen the pictures, Captain Hastings, and we accept them. The -facts were presented as they happened. It is unfortunate that we can -show no evidence of what reached John Hastings' eye as he looked into -the electron-lightscope. Mechanical tabulations cannot be transmitted -to our screen, since its envisioning powers are limited to the sensory -memory patterns of the brain. We must therefore go to the defendant -himself for further evidence."</p> - -<p>They had removed the heavy mesh, but the captain's head remained bowed.</p> - -<p>"Do you swear, John Hastings, that by the power of the God whom we know -to be, and by the strength of your own mind, you will tell us what you -saw in that instrument?"</p> - -<p>"I do so swear."</p> - -<p>"You may proceed."</p> - -<p>He drew himself together. "I found her at her mother's house. Even -though it's vacant now, she liked to go back there occasionally when I -was away."</p> - -<p>The twelve other jurors were leaning forward in their boxes. I could -feel my body itching from the strain.</p> - -<p>"You located her at her mother's house, at 4AH54 on the Third Level, -Eighty-first Sector, west of the Hudson?"</p> - -<p>"I did."</p> - -<p>"Continue."</p> - -<p>"She was sitting on the lawn in front of the house, talking to a man. -His back was toward me."</p> - -<p>"You could not see his face?"</p> - -<p>"Not then."</p> - -<p>"Go on."</p> - -<p>"They talked for a while. Then he moved to her on the grass. She smiled -and they put their arms around one another. He kissed her."</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus.jpg" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>"What happened then?"</p> - -<p>"He lifted her to her feet, and I saw it was Charles Lathrop. They went -to the door, and she opened it." He found it hard to get the words past -his lips.</p> - -<p>"Please proceed."</p> - -<p>"When she got inside, she turned around and smiled. It looked as if -she was laughing at me. Then she reached out and touched his arm. -She—she—"</p> - -<p>"Please speak louder. She what?"</p> - -<p>"She took him inside and shut the door."</p> - -<p>Heaped silence greeted the words. Men turned quietly and gazed at their -wives, their eyes asking a question for the bewildered, the undecided.</p> - -<p>"John Hastings, we have checked thoroughly. Your wife did spend the -night of the fifteenth in the vacant house of which you speak. She -spent the night, however, alone. Her graphs show no disturbances, no -emotional exhilaration. You are perpetrating an untruth."</p> - -<p>"I'm not. I saw it! I saw it as plainly as I can see the box in which I -am standing now."</p> - -<p>"You could not have seen it."</p> - -<p>"Before my God, I did! I saw every detail. The yellow pannier she wore. -The blue hydrangea bush on the lawn. That broken aneroid beside the -door. Every detail." His voice crescendoed.</p> - -<p>"It is impossible."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>He raised his fists in the air. "Say it's impossible if you like. -Repeat it a thousand times! But I saw her do it just the same!! I <i>saw</i> -it!"</p> - -<p>Something inside me had pulled tight. Thoughts of the classroom flooded -into my mind. Long forgotten formulae, theories ... somewhere! The -voice droned on, charging the jurors:</p> - -<p>"—having reviewed the evidence—"</p> - -<p>I kept groping toward a page in a book. Somewhere there was a piece -that would fit in. "The majority ballot rules." It was going too fast -for me. They were calling for the vote.</p> - -<p>"Juror Number One, please stand and tell the court; how do you find?"</p> - -<p>With great deliberation, he turned his back on the defendant in the box.</p> - -<p>"Juror Number One designates guilt. Juror Number Two, how do you find?"</p> - -<p>Vortler was second. He stood and gazed at John Hastings for a long -moment. Then he raised his arms toward the defendant, palms upward.</p> - -<p>"Juror Number Two designates innocence."</p> - -<p>I went back to the classroom again and again. There was a thing waiting -there for me, but it had been so long ago.</p> - -<p>The count was going fast....</p> - -<p>"Juror Number Six, how do you find?" Bax. I knew his vote before he -cast it. He turned his back.</p> - -<p>Where did it stand now? Four guilty, two innocent!</p> - -<p>My heart began to pound. It felt as if I were standing on the edge of a -deep water. Where was it, that I groped after? I tried to shut myself -in and think.</p> - -<p>The semi-circle was almost completed. The voice had reached the juror -on my left. Six men stood with their backs to John Hastings. Five stood -with their arms outstretched, "Juror Number Twelve, how do you find?"</p> - -<p>I asked for help then. I asked the Lord to turn the pages. And I asked -Him to help Kitson too. Kitson raised his arms high. The score was even.</p> - -<p>It waited until then to come. The piece ... the little piece, falling -on my brain from that half-forgotten book.</p> - -<p>"Juror Number Thirteen, how do—?"</p> - -<p>"Mr. Questioner," I cried. "I would like to interpose."</p> - -<p>"It is incorrect procedure to interrupt the vote—"</p> - -<p>"Yes, yes, I know." My voice shook. "But there is something I just -remembered. Something pertinent to what John Hastings saw."</p> - -<p>"Can it prove anything further one way or the other?"</p> - -<p>"I think so."</p> - -<p>An unseen conference. "Very well. Dispensation granted. What is your -information?"</p> - -<p>I took a deep breath. "John Hastings viewed his wife on Earth from one -of the planets of Alpha Centauri."</p> - -<p>"That is correct."</p> - -<p>My tongue was dry; my hands wet.</p> - -<p>"Alpha Centauri is four years, four months distant, measuring in light -years. Therefore, in his travel, John Hastings lost three of those -months, but when he turned his instrument backward, he was looking at -light images which had started from the Earth long before he ever left -it. He was looking at—"</p> - -<p>"<i>At ... what happened four years ago....</i>" John Hastings had finished -the sentence for me. He was looking at something as if it were the -first sunrise he had ever known.</p> - -<p>Speculation brought the amphitheatre to its feet. For the only time -during the trial, the mob found its voice. Uncertainty, relief and -surprise mingled, ebbed and flowed.</p> - -<p>The voice called for attention. "Quiet, please, quiet. The information -is correct," and the storm was over.</p> - -<p>"Since the jury is thus far hung, we will leave the decision to the -last, thirteenth talisman. We would like your vote, Juror Thirteen. How -do you find?"</p> - -<p>John looked at me. It was the first time since they had brought him in.</p> - -<p>And I stretched my arms out toward him....</p> - -<p>Who can say whether I was right or wrong? It is too delicate a thing to -come out all white or all black. But I think that in order for a man to -hate a woman so very much, it is also necessary for him to have loved -her very much, too.</p> - -<p>And sometimes, I wake up, shaking, in the night. I am thinking of what -might have happened if I hadn't remembered that old discarded pannier, -or the way Mother transplanted the blue hydrangea bush before she died, -or how Dad swore when she made him throw that aneroid away. If I hadn't -remembered those things, I would never have seen the look on John's -face as he walked into my outstretched arms and said: "Is it time for -us to go home now, Mary? 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