“No, Joel,” Ben replied. “I know I’m funny.”

“He is very funny,” Ober said. When Joel turned around and ignored him, Ober continued, “Nice to meet you, too.”

A buzzer sounded, ending every conversation in the room. “Is this where I’m supposed to be quiet?” Ober whispered.

“Shhhhh,” Ben said.

The marshal banged his gavel, and every person in the room stood at attention. “The Honorable, the Chief Justice and the Associate Justices of the Supreme Court of the United States!” the marshal announced. Within seconds, the nine justices strode through openings in the burgundy velvet curtain and moved to their respective seats on the bench.

“Very cool,” Ober whispered.

When the justices took their seats, the marshal announced, “Oyez! Oyez! Oyez! All persons having business before the Honorable, the Supreme Court of the United States, are admonished to draw near and give their attention, for the Court is now sitting. God save the United States and this Honorable Court!” Once again the gavel fell, and everyone took their seats.

From the center seat, Chief Justice Osterman said, “Today we have a longer docket than usual. We will be handing down the decisions of Doniger v. Lubetsky; Anderson v. United States; Maryland v. Schopf; Galani v. Zimmerman; and Grinnell and Associates v. New York. Justice Blake will be reading our first three decisions, and Justice Veidt will be reading the remainder.”

“Get comfortable,” Ben whispered. “Blake’s going to take his own sweet time.”

“Thank you, Mr. Chief Justice,” Blake announced in his signature Southern drawl. Reading from his prepared statement sheet, he announced with painful slowness each of the decisions of the Court.

“How do they pick who speaks?” Ober asked.

“It depends,” Ben whispered. “Blake wrote the first three decisions, while Veidt was chosen because he was instrumental in the last two.”

When Blake finished, Osterman said, “Thank you, Justice Blake. Justice Veidt.”

Justice Veidt pulled his microphone close to his mouth and announced the first of his two decisions. A small man with stark dyed-black hair and gaunt features, Veidt was known for his writings on American legal realism, which made him popular with legal scholars and uninteresting to the popular media. Although he had heard that Veidt was one of the nicest justices sitting on the Court, Ben, at this moment, couldn’t muster anything but hate for him.

“How are you doing?” Lisa asked, noticing the lack of color in Ben’s face.

“I’m fine,” Ben whispered back.

With his hand still on the microphone, Veidt cleared his throat and announced the decision. “In the case of Grinnell and Associates v. New York, we agree that the burden borne by the plaintiffs is a great one indeed. However, the importance of historical preservation of this country’s landmarks cannot be overstated. The historical value of the property, combined with the limited expectations of the plaintiffs when the property was purchased, leads us to conclude that New York City’s Landmark Law does not constitute a taking of the plaintiff’s property. We therefore find for the defendant and reverse the Appellate Court’s decision.”

The marshal banged his gavel to close the session, the tourists left the room, and Ben leaned back in his chair, a wide smile of relief flushing his face.

“Congratulations!” Lisa said, hugging her co-clerk.

“I don’t understand,” Ober said, confused. “I thought you said that Grinnell was-”

“Not here,” Ben interrupted, holding up his hand and indicating the other clerks who were still filing out of their seats. Ben rose from his chair. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Wait a minute,” Ober said. “What the hell is going on?”

“Just shut up and walk,” Lisa said, pushing Ober from behind.

The three friends fought their way through the crowds that lingered in the Great Hall and made their way to the stairs on the north side of the building. As they walked upstairs to Ben and Lisa’s office, Ober struggled to make sense of the last five minutes. “Hold on a second,” he demanded, stopping on the stairs.

“Just wait,” Ben said, refusing to stop for his roommate. “I’ll explain in a second.”

When they entered the office, Ober waited for the door to close behind him. “Now tell me what the hell just happened down there.”

Ben’s phone rang. “I knew it,” Ben said to Lisa. “I told you it wouldn’t take ten minutes.”

“You were right,” Lisa said as Ober looked on, still bewildered. “I thought for sure he would try to sell the property first.”

“Hello,” Ben said. “Justice Hollis’s chambers.”

“You’re a dead man, Ben.”

“Ah, Rick, how’re you doing? Everything’s just swell here.”

“Make all the jokes you want,” Rick said, “but you’re now-”

“Let me tell you something, you piece of shit,” Ben interrupted. “You’re the one who picked this fight. You’re the one who approached me. You’re the one who lied to gain my trust, and you’re the one who screwed me at the first opportunity you got. If you thought for a second that I wouldn’t try to screw you back, then you never understood me. You thought you were so damn smart that you’d make fools of the Ivy League imbeciles. Well, I’ve got news for you, my friend, you were outsmarted! I’m not some spoiled, gullible rich kid! I wasn’t born with a silver spoon! I was born with an iron foot, and right now, I’m sticking it straight up your non-Ivy League ass! In the future, pick your opponents more wisely. Now, I have to go celebrate with my real friends, so enjoy your shitty property and know that we beat you.” Ben slammed down the receiver, caught his breath, and then looked at his colleagues.

“Wow,” Lisa said. “Why don’t you say what’s on your mind? The catharsis will do you good.”

“Rick was, how shall I say, concerned, but otherwise thoughtful,” Ben said, struggling to catch his breath. “And he sends his love to everyone.”

“Just tell me what the hell is happening,” Ober demanded, shaking Ben by the shoulders. “I thought you said Grinnell was supposed to win.”

Ben sat down in his seat. “He was.”

“Are you saying that you knew the decision was going to come out the other way?”

“Of course I knew,” Ben said. “Lisa and I wrote the opinion.”

“But I thought you wrote the dissent,” Ober said, scratching his head. “I’m completely confused.”

“Here’s the deal,” Ben explained. “When the justices first voted on the decision, it came down four to four. Justice Veidt was undecided. Then Osterman convinced Veidt that if he voted for Grinnell, the decision, when it was written, would barely limit future government regulation. At that point, Veidt sided with Osterman, who now had enough votes to form a majority. Since Hollis was in the minority, Lisa and I started writing the dissent.”

“And at that point, Grinnell was supposed to win.” Ober leaned on the corner of Ben’s desk.

“Exactly,” Ben said. “Now, when the majority opinions are finally written, they’re passed around to all the justices, so they can all see what it is they’re actually voting for.”

“And that’s when Veidt switched sides,” Ober said.

“Exactly,” Ben said.

“Omigod, I think he’s actually learning,” Lisa said, patting Ober on the back.

Ben couldn’t contain his smile. “When Veidt saw Osterman’s opinion, he realized that the decision was taking a bigger step than he had signed on for. Osterman had basically written a ranting condemnation against government regulation. So Veidt told him that if he didn’t rewrite it, he was going to jump ship. Eventually, Veidt realized that there would be no way to take a small step, so he came over to our side. With that extra vote, our dissent became the majority opinion.”

“It happens all the time,” Lisa interrupted. “Justices say one thing in Conference, but when it comes down to putting it on paper, they don’t agree, so they switch sides.”