Righteous Intent Chapter One: DuoDrite and Beyond

this is the first chapter of Righteous Intent. This chapter sets up the story and sets up the issues and challenges that will challenge Mitchell Hughes throughout the novel.

Chapter One

 

DuoDrite and Beyond

 

            Freedom is a relative and ambiguous term.  Perhaps it is not our laws and government that suppress us, but rather, it is our self-induced imprisonment wrought by our mistakes, faults, and shortcomings that we fail to overcome. 

 

            “I don’t know what’s real anymore,” Mitchell whispered, as he nervously fidgeted with the electronic clipboard that he held in his lap.  Mitchell flipped his thumb repeatedly in ritual unison.  The metal clasps slammed against the clipboard sending echoes of annoying clicks throughout the courtroom. 

            “You’ve got to calm down, Mitch,” Claire insisted.  Claire Evans was appointed to Mitchell as his defense counsel from the Office of Public Defenders.  After all, public educators couldn’t afford good defense attorneys these days.  “I’m not saying you don’t have anything to worry about, but losing it like this isn’t helpful,” Claire said as she gently placed her hand on top of Mitchell’s, stopping the constant clicking of the metal clasps ringing from the clipboard. 

            Mitchell didn’t mind Claire’s hand touching his.  Her touch was soft and serene.  Claire’s touch quieted his thoughts and even sent a cozy drowsiness all over his body.  Mitchell thought that he could get lost just in a single touch of her hand.  He could spend time with her, if things were different. 

            “I don’t have a defense.” Mitchell muttered.  “I don’t stand a chance against the DuoDrite data.  They might as well reduce my molecules to data storage now and get it over with.”  Mitchell’s eyes sagged back into his eye sockets with utter conviction. 

            Mitchell’s mind raced, but his thoughts came back to the ones he loved dearly.  All he could think about was his two daughters, Samantha and Angela.  Both of his daughters were inflicted with the same genetic visual impairment that he was—

Bilateral Dominant Optic Neuropathy.  Mitchell had been diagnosed as a child, much like his two daughters.  People rarely understood the disorder.  Mitchell discovered his disorder as a child when he began to experience limited visual acuity, color blindness, and problems with lights.  His career as a schoolteacher was at risk—the school staff began to notice how his handicap was interfering with his work.  He stayed up late at night wondering what would become of his children as they endured his curse.  Nothing could help them, not a single therapy.  Mitchell’s family had genetically underdeveloped and degenerative optic nerve fibers that were inoperable.  Stem cell therapy even proved ineffective as a treatment.  But his girls were all that he had, and he wanted to be there for them—to help them overcome this disorder.  But Mitchell was facing the likelihood of data storage on some cold forgotten prison archive in a matter of days, or perhaps hours. 

            “I have an angle on your case, Mitch.  I believe in your innocence…I can feel it…call it intuition, but you’ve got to give me a chance,” Claire attempted to reassure her client with a soft smile. 

            Mitchell appreciated her smile.  He was pleased that Claire was close enough for him to see her majestic details, such as her soft vanilla skin, her long curled blonde hair, and her deep blue eyes that told stories of endless passion.  There wasn’t anything he didn’t appreciate about Claire.  She reminded him of Kara, the mother of his two lovely daughters.  Claire and Kara were alike in many ways.  Kara cared for him and their daughters, but the stress of his visual impairment must have pushed Kara away.  Now, Kara was gone, and Claire was here.  He missed the sound of Kara’s voice in the morning, as she called him to breakfast.  He heard her voice from anywhere in the house.  Now, her voice was gone, leaving behind a husband and two children to make the best of things.  But Claire came into his life, albeit not under the best circumstances.  Here he sat, with a beautiful and intelligent woman, on trial for a murder that he couldn’t have possibly committed.  The only possible outcome looked grim, and to make matters worse, his visual impairment prevented him from distinguishing the men and women apart sitting in the jury box—the twelve men and women who would be responsible for condensing the essence of everything he is, or ever will be, to a small data signature stored away for the rest of eternity. 

            “Sssh,” warned Claire as she took the clipboard from Mitchell’s lap.  The judge is about to enter. 

            Claire glanced suspiciously at the doodling that Mitchell scribbled on the electronic pad.  He left some notes, written in large print, describing a childhood dog he must have had as a child.  The dog was a beagle named Dirkson.  That can’t be, Claire thought, my childhood dog was a beagle named Dirkson.  No one would know that, especially Mitch!  Claire couldn’t dwell on this new mystery right now.  The trial was about to begin and she had to focus on her opening statement to the jury. 

            The door just to the left of the judge’s bench opened slowly to reveal a tall slender man dressed in an all-white uniform.  The uniformed man stepped sharply in true military fashion to the front of the judge’s bench and stood with strict demeanor.  “All rise for the honorable Judge Rodliegh,” shouted the bailiff.  In an instant, the courtroom sounded full of feet hitting the hardwood floor that canvassed the courtroom. 

            Another door on the right quickly opened as a shorter, somewhat overweight, man appeared behind the judge’s bench.  The man was so short, that the courtroom participants could hardly see the man as he stood behind the bench.  It wasn’t until he climbed up into his tall leathery chair that the judge was visible by the courtroom audience.  His black robe covered his short and chubby stature.  However, his facial features told another story.  His cheekbones were sharp and well recognized under his stately gray-bearded face.  His eyes were dark and filled with merciless indifference.  He cleared his voice as he slumped slightly over his bench’s console. 

            “You may be seated,” the judge spoke in a routine manner. 

            The courtroom participants, including a nervous defendant, rested back into the courtroom chairs.  Claire once again held Mitchell’s hand for reassurance.  Mitchell felt sick all over.  His thoughts of losing his daughters, his freedom, and Claire’s touch consumed him like a wild fire burning through the hillsides of his deepest pain.  He thought he would rather return to the nights when he worried about his visual impairment interfering with his job.  However, it seemed irrelevant debating which hell suited him better.  As far as hell is concerned, I prefer suffering my petty self-made purgatory than having to face the hell that awaits me if this trial doesn’t end well, Mitchell deliberated as he took his seat behind the defense’s station next to Claire. 

            Mitchell dreamed of what life would be like if he married Claire.  They would move to the country with Samantha and Angela, away from all of this technology, and for once, be happy.  He wouldn’t worry as much about his visual impairment if he and the girls lived in the country.  They could live off the land.  His daughters would never know the evils of the technological world that cursed them.  Mitchell’s attention was quickly diverted to the judge’s bench as Judge Rodliegh addressed the court.  

            “On this day, April 8, 2047, the State of Ohio charges Mitchell Hughes with a capital crime, murder in the first degree with premeditation, under penal code thirty-six, section A, paragraphs one through three,” the judge spoke firmly.  “As already established in the pre-trial hearing, does the defendant understand these charges and the ramifications of such charges?” 

            Claire stood to address the judge as she reiterated, “Yes, your honor, Mitchell Hughes fully understands the charges brought against him by the state.” 

            “How does the defendant plead?”  

            “Your honor, Mitchell Hughes pleads ‘not guilty’.”

            “Very well then,” Judge Rodliegh returned.  The judge turned his stubby head slightly towards the prosecution’s station.  “Is the prosecution ready for opening statements?” Judge Rodliegh asked. 

            Mitchell was more than terrified of the man sitting at the prosecution’s station.  His life was in the hands of a cold-hearted bureaucrat.  As a public educator for fourteen years, he knew more than he wanted to know about bureaucracy.  Paperwork and nonsensical procedures had dominated public education for decades and the times had only worsened with pointless restrictions, policies, and programs that, in his mind, vanquished any real opportunity for substantial improvements in education.  But these matters were the least of his worries now.  It would take more than convoluted bureaucracy to set him free of this intolerable situation. 

            “Yes, your honor, the prosecution is prepared with an opening statement,” the prosecutor boldly stated from the opponent’s corner.  A large man with a muscular build swaggered to the jury box with a force of nature that brought disaster with him wherever he went.  

            The prosecutor began, “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, you’ll clearly see that the accused is guilty of the crime…the murder of Dr. Elliot Scott, a brilliant technology developer and one of the most productive citizens in our state.  Mitchell Hughes’s DuoDrite chip implant uploaded the Memory Data File of his crime to the New Portsmouth Police Department at 11:13 p.m. on Thursday, April 4, 2047.  He was arrested at his place of work the following morning and charged with the murder of Dr. Elliot Scott.  As in all capital cases, the Memory Data Files recorded by the DuoDrite chip implant, or as we like to call them, MDF evidence, provide the court with all we need to know about any crime.  The MDF evidence recovered from Dr. Elliot Scott’s autopsy clearly shows the defendant, Mitchell Hughes, stabbing Dr. Scott to death with a long-bladed weapon.  The contents of the MDF evidence extracted from Mitchell Hughes are consistent and synchronized with that of Dr. Scott’s MDF evidence during the night of the murder.  So, ladies and gentlemen, we have all of the evidence we need to find Mitchell Hughes guilty of the crime that he’s charged.  It’ll be up to you to serve justice during this trial.  We can’t allow men like Mitchell Hughes to go without justice.  I’m sure you’ll reach the obvious and only possible verdict…of ‘guilty’!”  

            The iron-like man returned to the prosecution’s station, but not before making a deliberate parade to the defense’s station to taunt Claire.  “Well Claire, I’d like to see what you’ve planned to save this sorry man’s neck from the noose,” the prosecutor whispered in Claire’s ear. 

            “You’re a pig, Larry,” Claire said returning fire. 

            Claire rose from the defense’s station and squeezed past Larry Conrad, as she made her way to the jury box.  She had always despised Larry.  He asked her to dinner once, and as it turned out, he didn’t want a real relationship.  It disgusted her that most of the men she dated only wanted one thing.  But Mitchell wasn’t like that.  Mitchell was a nice, gentle man with a loving heart.  She knew his bright blue eyes were as honest as they were beautiful.  She trusted Mitchell, and on some level, Claire had feelings for him—if only she weren’t his attorney. 

            Larry was right this time.  She didn’t have much of a defense.  After seeing the data-link of the MDF evidence in discovery, she knew the evidence was rock solid, except for a couple of discrepancies that she would exploit to the fullest extent.  Her defense for Mitchell was weak at best.  She was going to rely on old-school tactics, providing Judge Rodliegh permitted such a passé` defense. 

            Claire slowly stepped up to the jury box.  She put her hands on the railing that separated her from the jury, as she looked carefully at each jury member hoping to see any sign of compassion for her client.  She nervously uttered her opening line, “Ladies and gentlemen, I can’t dispute the MDF evidence extracted from both my client, Mitchell Hughes, and the victim, Dr. Elliot Scott.  However, I don’t believe the DuoDrite chip implant is completely without flaw.  As a society, we’ve put our complete faith and trust in this technology.  As we know from our history, no machine is without flaw.  Anything mechanical, even computer systems can malfunction.  A man’s life is at stake here, and the only eyewitness is a computer chip.  This man, Mitchell Hughes, is a respected citizen of our community.  He’s taught public school for fourteen years.  He’s volunteered his time, work, and finances for many worthy community causes.  And most of all, Mitchell Hughes has no priors.  He has no previous record—not one infraction or misdemeanor.  Ladies and gentlemen, Mitchell Hughes didn’t have a motive, the means, or opportunity to kill Dr. Elliot Scott.  I understand that our legal system no longer cares about due process, but twenty years ago, we wouldn’t be here without the rights that due process protected.  No, ladies and gentlemen, I can’t dispute the evidence you’re about to witness, but please take my words to heart when considering this man’s fate.” 

            The jury is cold and unsympathetic, Claire thought.  She felt defeated from the start of the trial.  Perhaps she wasn’t the right counselor for Mitchell.  She was going to lose; even a first year law student knew that.  Claire turned her back to the jury as she took the long walk back to the defense’s station. 

            “That’s it?” snapped Mitchell as Claire returned to his side.  “That’s all you have?” Mitchell glanced carefully at the men and women sitting in the jury box.  He felt mortified terror crawl up into his throat like a handful of grub worms.  “Tell me about their facial expressions…do you think they believe you?” 

            “The jury didn’t respond as well as I had hoped.” Claire replied. 

            “I’m doomed, Claire…I’m doomed.” 

            “It’s not over, Mitch.” 

            Claire knew the anguish of defeat was imminent, but she wanted to give Mitchell hope for as long as she could.  She felt she owed him that much.  They spent many hours together since Mitchell’s arrest last Friday morning.  She stayed with Mitchell in his holding cell trying to prepare for a defense.  Mitchell never spoke much about the case.  He wanted to talk about his daughters, Samantha and Angela.  He worried more about his daughters than himself. 

            Claire was caring for Mitchell’s daughters while he was incarcerated.  It was a difficult task convincing the court to allow it, but temporary custody of the girls was granted to Claire because she was aware of their special needs.  Claire had temporarily placed Samantha and Angela in the Little One’s Care Facility until the outcome of the trial.  Claire felt the girls would be safe at the care facility, after all, the facility was an all girls home designed to care for displaced children until final parental or adoption matters were resolved. 

            What Claire was about to suggest to the judge was atypical to say the least as far as modern law proceedings were concerned.  But a bizarre defense is all she had for a bizarre case.  Claire had to wait for the prosecution to make its case against Mitchell.  The MDF evidence was damning for sure.  Once the jurors saw the MDF evidence from Mitchell and Dr. Scott’s DuoDrite chip implants, there was no doubt that Mitchell would be convicted and ultimately condemned to data storage. 

            Judge Rodliegh waited patiently for the prosecution and defense stations to ready themselves for the opening arguments.  The judge continued, “Is the prosecution ready to present its case, Mr. Conrad?”  

            Larry Conrad had been the prosecuting attorney for several years and he knew his job well.  He maintained a hundred percent conviction rate.  Losing wasn’t a word in Larry’s lexicon.  But his job was made easier with the use of MDF evidence in the courtroom.  All Larry had to do was present the MDF evidence to the jury and it was instant conviction, every time. 

            “Yes your honor, the prosecution is ready,” Larry Conrad replied. 

            “You may approach the court, Mr. Conrad.” 

            “Thank you, your honor,” Larry replied with a smug look.  Larry carried his weight like a schoolyard bully on his way to a pre-school picnic.  His massive demeanor wasn’t only great in strength and size, but in charisma as well.  He was like a Sherman tank ready to mow over any feeble defense that Claire might muster.  His shiny coal-black hair was slicked back to reveal a prominent forehead and sharp cheekbones—the cheekbones of a bloodhound.  The Devil himself would fear this prosecutor if he were sitting in Mitchell Hughes’s seat.  

            “Your honor, as standard procedure set forth by the United States Law Consortium of 2026, I would like to present Dr. Donald Likens as the DuoDrite expert to validate the MDF evidence that the court is about to witness,” Larry Conrad said as he had said so many times before. 

            “Proceed, Mr. Conrad,” returned the judge. 

            “I call Dr. Donald Likens to the floor.” 

            A small, short man dressed in an old gray pin-striped suit slowly stood from the back of the courtroom.  He pulled a wooden cane from the side of his chair and put it in front of each step as he approached the center floor between the prosecution and defense stations.  As the elderly disabled man found his way to his designation, an automatic chair rose from underneath a floor panel and stopped dead center between the two opposing stations. 

            “Please, Dr. Likens, have a seat and verify your credentials for the jury,” Larry Conrad insisted. 

            “My name is Dr. Donald Likens,” Dr. Likens stated as if he needed no introduction.  “I was part of the original team who designed the first DuoDrite schematics and I worked on the final implementation of the DuoDrite Program, which everybody knows is now a mandatory procedure.  I was one of the co-founders of DuoDrite Technologies.  I engineered one of the greatest technological masterpieces of this century.” 

            “May the court recognize that Dr. Likens is an MDF validation expert, and if there’re no objections, Dr. Likens will validate the MDF evidence used in this hearing,” offered the prosecuting attorney.  

            “Do you have any objections, counselor?” questioned Judge Rodliegh. 

            “No your honor, I’m satisfied that Dr. Likens is more than qualified,” returned a somber defense attorney. 

            “Very well, Mr. Conrad, please begin,” Judge Rodliegh said as he gestured with a sweeping motion of his hand in the direction of the prosecution’s station. 

            “Dr. Likens, have you had an opportunity to data-link with the MDF evidence extracted from the DuoDrite chip implants belonging to both the defendant, Mitchell Hughes, and the victim, Dr. Elliot Scott?” asked Larry Conrad with a confident smirk rising from the corner of his mouth.  

            “Yes, I’ve data-linked with the MDF evidence,” answered Dr. Likens. 

            “Can you verify the authenticity of the MDF evidence in question?” 

            “Yes, the MDF evidence is authentic and originates from the respective users of the DuoDrite chip implants, a one Mr. Mitchell Hughes, and a one Dr. Elliot Scott.” 

            “Thank you, Dr. Likens,” Larry Conrad obliged eagerly as he stepped away from the witness chair.  “That’s all, your honor,” Larry Conrad concluded. 

            “You may start the data-link generator hub, Mr. Conrad, if you’re ready,” offered Rodliegh. 

            “Wait, your honor!” shouted Claire from a standing position behind the defense’s station.  

            “What is it counselor?” begged an impatient judge. 

            “I would like to cross-examine, your honor,” Claire insisted. 

            “Objection…your honor…relevance!” Larry Conrad interrupted as he slammed his fist on his station in an angry rage.  “The counselor can’t cross-examine.  Dr. Likens isn’t a witness, your honor.” 

            “Counselors, approach the bench, now!” Judge Rodliegh shouted as his veins in his neck erupted with exploding red blood cells. 

            Claire and Larry quickly darted from their positions behind their respective stations and approached the judge’s bench in front of the courtroom auditorium, just behind where Dr. Likens was waiting impatiently to return to his seat.  Claire approached first with an apparent eagerness to get her way. 

            “Miss Evans, I’m warning you, you’ll not make a circus of my courtroom!” Rodliegh demanded.  “I’ll stop this hearing immediately and put your client in data storage this instant!” 

            “Thank you, your honor,” Larry Conrad smirked with a victorious snarl.  

            “Shut it, Larry, I didn’t ask for your overbearing opinion,” returned Rodliegh. 

            “Your honor, I’ve only a few questions for Dr. Likens regarding the dependability and accuracy of the DuoDrite chip implant,” Claire attempted to negotiate with a sense of glee.  “What does the prosecutor have to worry about if the DuoDrite chip is as reliable as Dr. Likens claims?” 

            “Well, Mr. Conrad, do we want to entertain Miss Evans’s crazy, but useless request,” Rodliegh said rhetorically. 

            “Your honor, this is…” Larry Conrad said revealing his irritation towards the defense counselor. 

            “Yes, you do, Larry,” the Judge demanded. 

            “Thank you, your honor,” Claire said as she snapped her heels around in a short dance of victory.  She smiled at Mitchell as she returned to the defense’s station. 

            “But be careful, Miss Evans, take minimal liberties with your line of questioning, or I’ll find you in contempt,” warned Judge Rodliegh. 

            “Yes, your honor,” Claire said without concealing the enjoyment of her small victory.  

            Claire faced Dr. Likens, who remained in the automated chair that was positioned between the defense and prosecution’s stations.  

            “Dr. Likens, can you explain to the jury what the DuoDrite chip implant is and what it does?” Claire asked.  

            “That’s a foolish question, everyone knows what the DuoDrite chip implant is…everyone has one,” Dr. Likens responded with a hard laugh as he tapped his right index finger on top of his head.  His out-of-control laughter caused him to nearly choke as he gasped for air.  The jury seemed to enjoy the ridiculous nature of Claire’s question as giggles and laughs came from the jury box. 

            “Please, your honor, I want this question answered; it goes to the credibility of the witness,” Claire begged as her forehead and cheek muscles wrinkled in a wave of frustration.  

            “Witness?” the judge barked with a dumbfounded expression.  “What witness, Miss Evans?” the judge asked.  

            “The MDF evidence, your honor,” Claire answered, “these files are bearing testimony against my client, and I want to know the credibility of these files!” 

            “Objection, your honor!” the broody prosecutor shouted from behind his station. 

            The courtroom instantly burst into a plethora of noises and sounds.  Voices rang out with gasps and giggles that would’ve amused the greatest of muses.  The commotion was unsettling to Mitchell as he sat there in total awe.  He couldn’t believe what was happening.  I’m so doomed, Mitchell thought.  He reached for the electronic clipboard that Claire took from him as if he were a child playing with a dangerous pair of scissors, or in this case, a long-bladed knife.  His thumb once again found the metal clasps as he began flicking and clicking the clipboard.  

            “Order in the court!” the judge shouted as he lowered his mighty gavel.  The judge slammed his hammer of justice twice more before the concert of noise finally subsided.  

            “I’ll allow the counselor to continue, but be warned Miss Evans, I’ll not permit another outburst,” the judge said. 

            “Thank you, your honor,” Claire replied.  Claire heard Mitchell clicking the metal clasps of the clipboard.  She knew this sudden influx of excitement upset him.  Playing with the clipboard seemed to be his only comfort.  She wished that she could hold him, cuddle with him, anything that would ease his pain.  She truly wanted to ease his suffering.  She couldn’t think about her feelings for Mitchell right now.  She knew she had to remain professional and do her job ethically and objectively, without involving her personal feelings or beliefs.  Claire had to avoid distractions, especially at a time like this.  I have to focus, she thought, I have to stay focused. 

            “Would you please answer my question, Dr. Likens?” Claire once again insisted.  

            “I’m sorry, dear, could you please repeat your question?” replied Dr. Likens.  “At my age it’s hard to remember.” 

            “Dr. Likens, can you explain to the court what the DuoDrite chip implant is and what it does?” Claire asked once again.  

            Regaining his composure, Dr. Likens sit up straight in the metallic witness chair to better his posture.  The old man cleared his throat while formulating a succinct explanation that the court might understand. 

            “Well, to put it simply, the DuoDrite is a poly-gig micro-tronics chip implant that is the greatest communications device ever conceived by humankind,” Dr. Likens boasted.  “It provides the user with Internet access with just a thought.  Once a user data-links with the DuoDrite chip interface, voice-links, thought-mails, text-links, and so forth can be sent and received just by thinking it.  Virtually, anything that was once possible with computers, cell phones, and Global Positioning System devices is now made possible with the DuoDrite chip implant.  The mind’s eye is able to visualize communications, videos, photos, images, text, and any file type that has been created to date.  Simply, the DuoDrite chip implant allows for direct data-links with other users.  The users can share thoughts or vocalize their conversations if they so desire.”  

            “How does the DuoDrite chip implant send and receive data, Dr. Likens?” 

            “With satellite signals, how else would it work?” 

            “And how is a Memory Data File created?” Claire asked. 

            “A Memory Data File, or MDF, is a file created from the recorded memory of the user—it’s like downloading a video stream and recording that data onto a storage device for later retrieval.” 

            “Can you explain how the DuoDrite chip implant works?” 

            Dr. Likens smiled as he revealed his huge ego that shined like a star going supernova.  He was a man who was obviously proud of his life’s work. 

            “My dear girl, no one in this room could possibly understand how the DuoDrite chip implant works,” Dr. Likens insisted.  “But to try to put it simply, the DuoDrite implant works in conjunction with human brain tissue and cells.  The device simply sends and receives signals by using the electrical impulses generated by the human nervous system as it interfaces with the frontal lobe of the cerebral cortex, but yet not affecting the central nervous system.  In other words, the user of the DuoDrite implant can access the technology, such as a voice-link, without being distracted from a typical daily activity, such as driving.” 

            “So, the DuoDrite is a machine then?” 

            “Well, perhaps it’s like a machine.” 

            “And like all machines, the DuoDrite chip implant isn’t impervious to malfunction?”  

            “You’re insane for asking such a question!” the doctor blurted.  “The DuoDrite is impervious to malfunction.  It has never happened!” 

            “But isn’t it possible for the DuoDrite chip to malfunction?” Claire began to ask before she heard the slamming of the judge’s condemning gavel. 

            “Counselor, Dr. Likens answered your question, and I’m satisfied,” Rodliegh said with determination.  

            Larry Conrad stretched back in his chair behind his station and released a grin that marked a victory over an annoyed defense attorney.  Larry couldn’t hold back his enjoyment, as his obnoxious smile transformed into laughter. 

            “Just one more question,” Claire nearly stuttered.  “Is it possible that the DuoDrite chip implant can be hacked, or tampered with in any way?” 

            “Absolutely not,” the doctor shouted as he banged his cane against the chair.  He swiveled his chair towards the jury box to ensure the jury heard his next words.  Lifting his cane in absolute fashion, Dr. Likens stated firmly, “It’s impossible to hack or tamper with the DuoDrite chip implant.  There’re seven levels of parameter defenses that protect the inner core of the implant from any external electronic tampering, including worms, viruses, bugs, and any other electronic viral concoction that these high school electronic terrorists can engineer.  Why do you think the DuoDrite communication application requires privacy pass codes?  For example, Miss Evans, I can’t send you a thought-mail unless I have your privacy pass codes.  Not that I’d have a reason to do such a thing.” 

            “No further questions, your honor,” Claire said slowly with a sinking feeling in her stomach.  She walked steadily to the defense’s station and sat quietly next to Mitchell. 

            “Mr. Conrad, would you like to cross-examine ‘this witness’?” Rodliegh asked. 

            “No, your honor, the prosecution is finished with Dr. Likens,” Larry Conrad answered. 

            As Claire returned to her seat next to Mitchell at the defense’s station, Mitchell turned and lowered his body next to hers hoping no one else heard what he was about to say next.  

            “That went well,” Mitchell said with a bite of sarcasm. 

            “I’m sorry, Mitch, I was trying to make the jury doubt the reliability of the DuoDrite technology,” Claire said lovingly, although sympathizing with Mitchell’s disgust for this whole situation.  

            “It’s alright, Claire. I know you’re doing your best.” 

            Dr. Likens pushed his nearly disabled body from the automated witness chair and put his cane in front of his steps as he returned to the courtroom auditorium.  Under his breath, the participants in the courtroom could almost hear the doctor say, “If the fools only knew?” 

            Mitchell continued to lift his thumb over the metal clasps of the clipboard.  He flicked the clasps with a steady rhythm that put his mind in an almost hypnotic state.  Claire looked over at Mitchell, but Mitchell didn’t respond.  He had a glazed look in his eyes that made Claire think he was somewhere else.  She spoke his name as she grabbed his arm, “Mitchell, Mitch, what’s wrong?” 

            Mitchell felt dizzy and lightheaded.  This wasn’t the first time that Mitchell had experienced this abnormality, and it was happening again—and this wasn’t a symptom of optic neuropathy.  The dizziness consumed his head, as everything around him became dark and black until he no longer saw the familiar environment of the courtroom.  A bright flash of light sent excruciating pain through his head.  He saw sparks of blue electric current dance in his head.  The charged impulses that electrified the inside of his head intensified until he was no longer in the courtroom. 

           

            Once Mitchell’s brain activity subsided, he found himself standing in the rear of an unfamiliar laboratory as he took inventory of his precarious environment.  He saw consoles and computers all around.  There were tools for working with microscopic processors in front of him on a countertop occupied with small electronic parts.  He didn’t recognize any of the parts, or tools for that matter, but he saw with clarity.  He saw tiny details that were typically mere unrecognizable shapes.  The depth of the colors he found in his new environment was rich with flavor and texture.  Mitchell was so overwhelmed by the rich and vibrant visuals that he was nearly over-stimulated.  Mitchell somehow remembered having a similar experience.  He thought about playing with a beagle.  It was his childhood dog.  He was named Dirkson, Mitchell remembered.  Dirkson wasn’t my dog…it was…it was, Claire’s!  How could I’ve played with Claire’s dog? Claire was only eight years old when I-…when she had Dirkson. 

            Mitchell returned to the uncertainty of his present location.  The thoughts of Claire’s beagle added to the already over-stimulating visual details of his new environment that exacerbated his nausea.  His head throbbed as he saw the little blue electric bodies dance and swim inside of his head when he closed his eyes.  It was better to keep his eyes open.  Mitchell enjoyed having perfect vision, in fact, he dreamed about it all of his life.  He wished Samantha and Angela could see what he saw at this moment.  Perhaps Kara wouldn’t have left him and the girls if he hadn’t of burdened her with a handicap? Mitchell pondered.  

            Where am I? Mitchell questioned as he scanned the unfamiliar environment.  Mitchell moved towards the only exit located at the rear side of the room.  He stepped quickly, hoping the door led back to the courtroom.  As Mitchell moved toward the exit, he felt disoriented as he stepped with his wobbly legs.  As he opened the door, a man wearing a white laboratory coat stopped him. 

            “Dr. Likens, where’re you going?” the man asked. 

            “I…” Mitchell uttered. 

            “Dr. Likens, we’re late for the meeting with Homeland Security.” 

            “Homeland Security?”  

            “You mean you haven’t told them?”  

            “Told them?” 

            “Man, you’re really pushing it.  Remember, Agent Andrews of Homeland Security?  He wants an update on the DuoDrite Project.  You need to tell him about the defect.  You’ve got to tell him of the danger!” 

            “Who’s Agent Andrews?”  

            “You’re kidding, right? 

            “Kidding?  No.” 

            “You’ve got to get some rest.  Andrews is in charge…he’ll make the final recommendation to Congress…for the funding you want doctor?” 

            “Why is he in charge?” 

            “Ever since the NSA and CIA merged with Homeland Security last year, I don’t know who’s really in charge.” 

            Last year, Mitchell pondered, that merger was thirty years ago. 

            “I’m sorry, but that’s not right, it’s been at least thirty years since that merger.” 

            “Are you taking those recreational drugs the company handed out last week?” 

            “What year is this?” 

            “Dr. Likens, are you feeling all right?” 

            “Tell me, what year is it?”  

            “It’s 2018, doctor,” the man responded, “I think you’ve been working too hard on developing the memory data files for that DuoDrite device of yours.” 

            The DuoDrite chip implant wasn’t created until 2021, with full implementation by 2023, Mitchell thought.  How can this be possible!  I’m in the past somehow.  But the DuoDrite…the DuoDrite chip implant has a defect…I have to tell Claire!  Dr. Likens knows something.  Mitchell turned to the man in the white laboratory coat and reached out for his shoulders. 

            “Go ahead to the meeting,” Mitchell said, “I’ll catch up in a few minutes…there’s something I need to finish here.”  

            Mitchell watched as the man strolled down the corridor and around the corner.  He didn’t know how long he would be here, if he knew where here was.  He felt a ringing in his ears as if he had been listening to a rock n’ roll concert.  He thought he heard Claire’s voice calling him.  He heard Claire’s voice in his head somewhere underneath the ringing.  If only he controlled the ringing, and the bright flashes of light.  He closed his eyes in submission to the dancing electrical flashes that dared to challenge him.  Claire is calling for me, but where is she? Mitchell pondered as he struggled to regain consciousness. 

 

            Claire nudged Mitchell as she called his name, but he didn’t respond.  She shook his arm until he scribbled something else on the electronic clipboard that he had been flicking.  He wrote something in almost gibberish, but it was legible enough for her to read.  It read, “Dr. Likens—Homeland Security—defect.”  Claire felt dumbfounded with intrigue as she raised her eyebrows above her big blue eyes.  

            Mitchell stood up holding his head with both hands.  He gritted his teeth together as if he were grinding out his anger.  He screamed out into the courtroom auditorium.  He felt dizzy and lightheaded once again as the bright light flashed before him. 

            “Dr. Likens!” Mitchell shouted from the defense’s station.  “I was you!  You knew!  You didn’t tell Homeland Security!  I should’ve told Agent Andrews myself when I was you!  Tell the court, Dr. Likens, about your laboratory!  Tell the jury about the meeting that I had…that you had…with Agent Andrews in 2018!” 

            The court once again combusted in overwhelming noise followed by the thuds of Judge Rodliegh’s hammer of justice.  The judge slammed it again and again.  The judge signaled the bailiff to assist him in quieting the courtroom.  The bailiff, dressed in the white uniform, drew a device from his belt and lifted it toward the auditorium.  He pushed a series of buttons on the device as a high-pitched beam of intolerable sound suddenly filled the courtroom auditorium.  Holding their ears in pain and shock, the participants and observers within the auditorium returned to their initial state of unadulterated silence, as if they were obedient sheep. 

            “That’s better,” Rodliegh grumbled. 

            Claire was flabbergasted with Mitchell’s outburst.  She had no idea where Mitchell could’ve come up with that absurd story.  She grabbed his shoulder and pushed down with force.  She no longer was tender with her client, but now acted like an angry mother scolding her young child. 

            “Mitchell, sit down and shut up!” Claire demanded. 

            Larry Conrad was pleased with Mitchell’s outburst.  He jotted a few notes on his electronic clipboard with what appeared to be raw enjoyment.  He composed his playful demeanor and stood to address the judge’s bench. 

            “Your honor, the prosecution objects if the defendant is attempting to change his plea to ‘insane’,” the prosecutor announced smugly. 

            The courtroom began to stir into another round of gasps and giggles.  The judge looked toward the bailiff and motioned him to step forward.  However, the participants quickly subsided in an attempt to avoid a second dose of the bailiff’s crowd control device.  

            Claire stood up from behind the defense’s station to confront the prosecutor’s sarcastic remark.  Pompous jerk, Claire thought as she prepared her next round with the prosecutor. 

            “Your honor, I apologize for my client’s outburst,” Claire offered.  “He’s under a lot of stress, but no, my client doesn’t want to change his plea, despite what the prosecutor may think.” 

            “Don’t let it happen again, Miss Evans, or I’ll find you and your client in contempt!” Rodliegh warned once again.  

            “No sir, it won’t,” confirmed Claire.  

            Claire sat back in her seat wanting the day to end.  The trial hadn’t really started yet and she felt beaten like a whipped dog.  She knew the trial wouldn’t last much longer.  Once Larry presents the MDF evidence to the jury, it’s over for Mitch, Claire thought.  It’s over for us to.  

            Larry Conrad remained standing at his station.  He looked forward and slightly up.  What time is it?  He questioned in his mind, as he accessed his DuoDrite chip implant.  In an instant, he saw the time materialize in his mind’s eye.  It’s almost noon…close enough for lunch, Larry pondered to himself.  I want a reservation for one at Marlow’s Seafood for 12:15, Larry decided in his head.  Reservation accepted was the return message sent to Larry’s DuoDrite chip implant.  Excellent, he concluded. 

            “Your honor, if it would please the court, I would like to recess for lunch before viewing the MDF evidence,” the prosecutor recommended. 

            “Mr. Conrad,” the judge said, “the only thing that’s as definitive as your conviction rate is your appetite.” 

            The courtroom participants squirmed in their seats wanting to release a well-deserved outburst of laughter, but no one wanted to experience the sonic discomfort of the bailiff’s crowd control device.  

            “However, I do feel it’s time to recess…I think Mr. Hughes could use this time to get himself together,” the judge added.  “The court is adjourned until after lunch.” 

            Mitchell sat in his seat behind the defense’s station with sweat dripping down his forehead.  He was shaking from the head down.  Claire didn’t know what to think.  She looked again at the clipboard.  She looked at Mitchell’s writing on the clipboard.  How could Mitch have known about Dirkson?  What was his outburst about?  How could he have known anything about Dr. Likens?  Why would he say he knew Agent Andrews from 2018?  Claire couldn’t make sense of any of it.  She turned to Mitchell wanting to touch him.  She wanted so much to caress his cheeks and to kiss his lips.  She was falling in love with a condemned man.  She thought a greater power in the universe with a twisted sense of humor was playing an evil prank on her.  It’s scary that Mitch can’t see what’s in front of his face, but it’s scarier that he can’t see what’s really happening to him, Claire reflected.  And sadly…Mitch has no idea how I feel about him.  It’s probably better that way. 

            Mitchell raised his head and put his hands back on top of the defense’s station.  He clinched his jaws tight and looked into Claire’s eyes with deep conviction.  Mitchell waited patiently before he spoke again.  Claire saw tears fill in Mitchell’s eyes as his tear ducts swelled like a typhoon on an unsuspecting beach. 

            “Claire,” Mitchell said, “I don’t know what’s real anymore.” 

            “I’m real, Mitch,” Claire said with a hint of a purposeful sigh.  

 

Author's Note

Does this first chapter "hook" you into reading the rest of the novel, or do you need more?