continued. “AND,
it holds the potential for great danger. It’s not a question
of either we do it or we don’t. The masses need to learn that
milk does not come from a carton and electricity does not come from
an outlet. Society is scientifically illiterate, ignorant, and
stupid.” He may have been redundant, but Gybe held the masses
in very low esteem.
Though
he had known Kara for only a couple of days, he knew she wasn’t
stupid. She wouldn’t buy his arguments at face value, but he
suspected that she would ponder some of the things he had said. Of
course she would never admit this.
While
Kara steamed, Gybe finished reading the newspaper article.
Finished
with the Star-Bulletin , Gybe traded papers with Kara and
scanned the reports in the other major newspaper.
He
glanced up at the kitchen clock, saw that it was nearly 6:00 p.m.,
and flipped on the small countertop television.
12
On
the TV, the face of a pretty woman filled the small screen. She was
pretty because five test audiences gave her a high rating during her
hiring process. She won additional points for white, straight teeth
and perfect hair. On cue and at random, she could call up any of
seven pre-defined facial expressions ranging from laughter to
misty-eyed gloom. Tears spoiled her make-up, so she never used them.
Her agent negotiated a contract stipulating that during a broadcast,
she would never utter more than four consecutive sentences. Each
sentence would contain no more than eleven words – no more than
three syllables per word.
Or at
least, that was what Gybe imagined after listening to the woman
speak.
Gybe
watched as she announced the top story. “In Wailuku today, the
Maui County Prosecuting Attorney held a news conference.” She
hit her maximum word count, so she started a new sentence. “He
discussed the recent murders on Moloka‘i.” Hawaiian
words, such as Moloka‘i, were exempt from the three-syllable
rule. She stumbled through their pronunciation. Turning her head,
she directed the audience to follow her eyes to the growing inset of
the reporter on the scene.
The
on scene reporter’s head oscillated between her notes and the
camera. Reading from her notes, she reported that during the news
conference, the Prosecuting Attorney (PA) had told reporters that at
one p.m. today, Susan Combs had appeared before a District Court
judge via video link to the Kaunakakai jail. The purpose of the
hearing was to set the date for a preliminary hearing to determine if
sufficient evidence warranted proceeding to trial.
The
state charged her with two counts of first-degree murder. The
prosecutor had sufficient evidence to show pre-meditation in the
killings. Further, he said that several eyewitnesses had placed her
in the area of the crime; that she had a documented history of
“violence” (his word) against the companies that employed
the victims; and that Susan had access to specific physical evidence
used in the commission of the crime.
A
video clip of the news conference bloomed on the screen as the
reporter’s image faded to a small corner. The Prosecuting
Attorney was speaking: “Under Hawai‘i Revised Statutes,
a conviction of first degree murder carries a mandatory life sentence
without possibility of parole. This heinous crime will not go
unpunished.”
Already
building his case for the jury and possibly political office, Gybe
thought.
The
prosecutor continued, “A civilized society tolerates no
justification for murder. A life cannot be traded for the
environment.”
Was
the converse true? Gybe wondered. Was it OK to trade the
environment for a life?
Several
reporters jumped up with questions. “What was the cause of
death?” yelled Melinda, the on-scene talking head of the
television station they were watching.
“ No
comment.”
Undaunted,
the reporter fired back. “I’ve heard that the victims
were wearing concrete overshoes. Is organized crime involved?”
Like
the wave at a football stadium, the other
it holds the potential for great danger. It’s not a question
of either we do it or we don’t. The masses need to learn that
milk does not come from a carton and electricity does not come from
an outlet. Society is scientifically illiterate, ignorant, and
stupid.” He may have been redundant, but Gybe held the masses
in very low esteem.
Though
he had known Kara for only a couple of days, he knew she wasn’t
stupid. She wouldn’t buy his arguments at face value, but he
suspected that she would ponder some of the things he had said. Of
course she would never admit this.
While
Kara steamed, Gybe finished reading the newspaper article.
Finished
with the Star-Bulletin , Gybe traded papers with Kara and
scanned the reports in the other major newspaper.
He
glanced up at the kitchen clock, saw that it was nearly 6:00 p.m.,
and flipped on the small countertop television.
12
On
the TV, the face of a pretty woman filled the small screen. She was
pretty because five test audiences gave her a high rating during her
hiring process. She won additional points for white, straight teeth
and perfect hair. On cue and at random, she could call up any of
seven pre-defined facial expressions ranging from laughter to
misty-eyed gloom. Tears spoiled her make-up, so she never used them.
Her agent negotiated a contract stipulating that during a broadcast,
she would never utter more than four consecutive sentences. Each
sentence would contain no more than eleven words – no more than
three syllables per word.
Or at
least, that was what Gybe imagined after listening to the woman
speak.
Gybe
watched as she announced the top story. “In Wailuku today, the
Maui County Prosecuting Attorney held a news conference.” She
hit her maximum word count, so she started a new sentence. “He
discussed the recent murders on Moloka‘i.” Hawaiian
words, such as Moloka‘i, were exempt from the three-syllable
rule. She stumbled through their pronunciation. Turning her head,
she directed the audience to follow her eyes to the growing inset of
the reporter on the scene.
The
on scene reporter’s head oscillated between her notes and the
camera. Reading from her notes, she reported that during the news
conference, the Prosecuting Attorney (PA) had told reporters that at
one p.m. today, Susan Combs had appeared before a District Court
judge via video link to the Kaunakakai jail. The purpose of the
hearing was to set the date for a preliminary hearing to determine if
sufficient evidence warranted proceeding to trial.
The
state charged her with two counts of first-degree murder. The
prosecutor had sufficient evidence to show pre-meditation in the
killings. Further, he said that several eyewitnesses had placed her
in the area of the crime; that she had a documented history of
“violence” (his word) against the companies that employed
the victims; and that Susan had access to specific physical evidence
used in the commission of the crime.
A
video clip of the news conference bloomed on the screen as the
reporter’s image faded to a small corner. The Prosecuting
Attorney was speaking: “Under Hawai‘i Revised Statutes,
a conviction of first degree murder carries a mandatory life sentence
without possibility of parole. This heinous crime will not go
unpunished.”
Already
building his case for the jury and possibly political office, Gybe
thought.
The
prosecutor continued, “A civilized society tolerates no
justification for murder. A life cannot be traded for the
environment.”
Was
the converse true? Gybe wondered. Was it OK to trade the
environment for a life?
Several
reporters jumped up with questions. “What was the cause of
death?” yelled Melinda, the on-scene talking head of the
television station they were watching.
“ No
comment.”
Undaunted,
the reporter fired back. “I’ve heard that the victims
were wearing concrete overshoes. Is organized crime involved?”
Like
the wave at a football stadium, the other
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