Tag it well.
‘Of course, his basic problem is common or garden homicidal mania. It’s been treatable for fifty years. It would lead another man to become a mercenary or a serial killer, but Truro Daine is not another man, he is perhaps the third or fourth loftiest intelligence in the world. Had he chosen to live within the fold, he would undoubtedly be richer through the income on his patents than he was through theft, extortion, terror-for-hire, blackmail and the black economy. He could have been very high in the Gunmint. But that would have bored him zoidal.’
‘B-b-bad to the B-b-bone.’
‘I beg pardon?’
‘A song, Governor. Pardon me. It’s a pash of mine. Old songs.’
‘Harrumph.’
Daine’s face came back, frozen. His serial numbers hung solid in front of his chest. Being under arrest hadn’t fazed him. Perhaps he had tried everything else and thought punishment might be less boring than trespass. Yggdrasil knows, Truro Daine was brainier than the Gunmint.
‘Do you know,’ said Trefusis, clearly enthused on his favourite subject, ‘when he finally came to trial, he was found guilty on 8,921 counts of first-degree murder alone, excluding his various thermonuclear adventures. Before they gave up, the international courts found him culpable in enough instances to entail a mandatory sentence without remission that would take a significant chunk out of the lifespan of a continent. If he were to live out his stretch, it is likely on the current evidence that the human race would have evolved beyond all recognition by the time he was eligible for parole. When it came to the vote, lamas who refuse vaccines on the grounds that even microorganisms have a right to life endorsed a revival of the death penalty just this once.’
Susan remembered the controversy. It had got as far as Yggdrasil, and the machine had taken longer to debate the issue than any other she could remember. When, after a full two hours, it had decreed that, even in the case of Truro Daine, capital punishment was not an option, there had been riots from Peiping to Valparaiso. A few more decisions like that and the Gunmint would have to find itself another A1 demagogue. Behind Trefusis, Daine was still at ease in his tridvid clip, smug as Prime Minister Dies, calm as Chillmeister Freaze.
‘You’d think that the one place Truro Daine would be accepted was right here, wouldn’t you? All trespassers together. But child molesters, corpse violators and religion pushers refuse to share a field with him. He has a phantom zone of his own to keep the other prisoners away from him. He remaindered too many of his associates to retain the loyalty of the trespassing classes.’
‘This is all very interesting, but…’
‘Where do you come in, Ms Bishopric? You must forgive me for being prolix. You see, Truro Daine has escaped.’
The view blanked. Susan saw that Trefusis was crying. He reached for a face-dab and touched his cheeks. She looked around, nervous, and was embarrassed by the nerve-twitch reaction. Did she think Truro Daine was hiding behind the Yggdrasil banks in the corner, clutching his straight razor?
‘That’s not supposed to be possible, Governor.’
Trefusis blew his nose, and ordered himself. The pomp came back and he inflated again. ‘It isn’t. Do you understand our system?’
‘Only what I scan in the newsbreaks.’
‘It’s perfect. Humane, but escape-proof. There are no bars and locks. Structurally, this building could be a school or a hospital. Our only security comes down through the Yggdrasil terminal. It broadcasts a variable energy field. At night, it shrinks to encompass just the main building. During the work periods, it bubbles significantly to allow the prisoners to their assigned toil areas. Upon conviction, each trespasser is implanted with a pacemaker. If he or she should wander beyond the field, the pacemaker gives out and their heart stops. If we find them within five minutes, they can be
‘Of course, his basic problem is common or garden homicidal mania. It’s been treatable for fifty years. It would lead another man to become a mercenary or a serial killer, but Truro Daine is not another man, he is perhaps the third or fourth loftiest intelligence in the world. Had he chosen to live within the fold, he would undoubtedly be richer through the income on his patents than he was through theft, extortion, terror-for-hire, blackmail and the black economy. He could have been very high in the Gunmint. But that would have bored him zoidal.’
‘B-b-bad to the B-b-bone.’
‘I beg pardon?’
‘A song, Governor. Pardon me. It’s a pash of mine. Old songs.’
‘Harrumph.’
Daine’s face came back, frozen. His serial numbers hung solid in front of his chest. Being under arrest hadn’t fazed him. Perhaps he had tried everything else and thought punishment might be less boring than trespass. Yggdrasil knows, Truro Daine was brainier than the Gunmint.
‘Do you know,’ said Trefusis, clearly enthused on his favourite subject, ‘when he finally came to trial, he was found guilty on 8,921 counts of first-degree murder alone, excluding his various thermonuclear adventures. Before they gave up, the international courts found him culpable in enough instances to entail a mandatory sentence without remission that would take a significant chunk out of the lifespan of a continent. If he were to live out his stretch, it is likely on the current evidence that the human race would have evolved beyond all recognition by the time he was eligible for parole. When it came to the vote, lamas who refuse vaccines on the grounds that even microorganisms have a right to life endorsed a revival of the death penalty just this once.’
Susan remembered the controversy. It had got as far as Yggdrasil, and the machine had taken longer to debate the issue than any other she could remember. When, after a full two hours, it had decreed that, even in the case of Truro Daine, capital punishment was not an option, there had been riots from Peiping to Valparaiso. A few more decisions like that and the Gunmint would have to find itself another A1 demagogue. Behind Trefusis, Daine was still at ease in his tridvid clip, smug as Prime Minister Dies, calm as Chillmeister Freaze.
‘You’d think that the one place Truro Daine would be accepted was right here, wouldn’t you? All trespassers together. But child molesters, corpse violators and religion pushers refuse to share a field with him. He has a phantom zone of his own to keep the other prisoners away from him. He remaindered too many of his associates to retain the loyalty of the trespassing classes.’
‘This is all very interesting, but…’
‘Where do you come in, Ms Bishopric? You must forgive me for being prolix. You see, Truro Daine has escaped.’
The view blanked. Susan saw that Trefusis was crying. He reached for a face-dab and touched his cheeks. She looked around, nervous, and was embarrassed by the nerve-twitch reaction. Did she think Truro Daine was hiding behind the Yggdrasil banks in the corner, clutching his straight razor?
‘That’s not supposed to be possible, Governor.’
Trefusis blew his nose, and ordered himself. The pomp came back and he inflated again. ‘It isn’t. Do you understand our system?’
‘Only what I scan in the newsbreaks.’
‘It’s perfect. Humane, but escape-proof. There are no bars and locks. Structurally, this building could be a school or a hospital. Our only security comes down through the Yggdrasil terminal. It broadcasts a variable energy field. At night, it shrinks to encompass just the main building. During the work periods, it bubbles significantly to allow the prisoners to their assigned toil areas. Upon conviction, each trespasser is implanted with a pacemaker. If he or she should wander beyond the field, the pacemaker gives out and their heart stops. If we find them within five minutes, they can be
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