Well, sure. She wasn't the one facing jail time if she was wrong.

The hour stretched to an hour and a half as the tension grew. But finally the Judge called us back into session, and the shouting began again. Billy and his friends had turned up several cases; they claimed precedent that should set me free. Roxy Hart and her gang concentrated on trying to prove that the laws prevailing at the time had no relevance to my case today. But was that a haunted look I saw in her eyes? I still doubted she had much to lose, politically, whichever way the case went... but lawyers hate to lose.

At last the Judge called for order, and eventually got it. "This has been a troubling case, for many reasons," it began. "Almost lost in the parade of issues is the horror of the act itself. A man stands accused of killing his own father, an act terrible to contemplate. So terrible that we have a distinct word for it: patricide. Often in such a case the act is in response to another terrible act, or more likely a series of acts, and that is child abuse. There are indications that abuse, and a specific assault at the time of the act, was indeed a contributing factor, but the defendant has chosen not to place undue emphasis on it. This is not an unknown situation, either, as the bond of love between parent and child is often so strong as to survive the most outrageous atrocities. I will ask you now, Mr. Valentine, and please consider your answer carefully. Do you wish to bring any further evidence before the court concerning your treatment at the hands of your father?"

Billy started to get up, then remembered where he was. He tried to give me advice using only his eyes, which were amazingly expressive.

I stood. "Your Honor, my father was an abusive man. But I could have left him if I chose to, if I had had the strength of character to do so."

"Were you in fear for your life when he came at you with the sword?"

"I honestly can't say." There was a short pause.

"Is there... anything else you wish to say about that day?"

Good god, where was this going? "No, Your Honor."

"Then I have one last question. Do you feel you deserve punishment for this act?"

"Your Honor, I have been punishing myself for seventy years now. Whether that is enough, whether the state should now get in its licks, is up to you to decide."

"Yes, it is. But it's all academic, anyway. I was merely trying to better understand the situation in hopes of refining the protocols.

"Determination is as follows:

"A person accused of a crime has the expectation and the right to be judged by the laws in effect at the time of the crime. Though it may look like a loophole, Mr. Valentine, and though we may, in our wisdom, view an antiquated law as foolish, even barbaric, we should bear in mind that things we do today will seem equally silly to future generations. Our perspective is probably not the pinnacle of human wisdom; we do the best we can with what we know, and should be loath to condemn our forebears. Therefore, I find that under prevailing law, no crime was committed in the death of John Valentine, the identical clone of Kenneth Valentine, and I hereby dismiss all charges against the defendant.

"Court is adjourned."

"Does that mean I can go?" I shouted to Billy Flynn. I had to shout; the noise was deafening. Toby was awake, jumping up and down and barking.

"There's the door. You're a free man."

"What about my money?"

"Except for a big chunk that goes to me, it's all yours."

"Then I want you to hire ten of the meanest bodyguards you can find. No, make that twenty. All authorized to carry lethal weapons. I'd like them in this room in ten minutes, if possible. I'll wait right here."

And that's what I did, keeping a nervous eye on the door all the time.

The room quickly cleared out until no one was left but me and my attorneys, who were so busy in a self-congratulatory knot some distance away, patting each other on the back for the great work they had so little to do with, that they didn't notice it when the Judge spoke to me again.

"You're a very lucky man, Kenneth," it said.

"Luckier than you'll ever know."

"I know more than you suppose. I'm speaking now with another hat on, the one I wear as the Luna Central Computer."

I would have imagined that was more than one hat right there, but I had been raised to be suspicious of large computers, and this was the largest one there was, so I said nothing.

"I witness most of what goes on in Luna," it said. "As you know, most of what I see I cannot act on, due to laws concerning the privacy of citizens. The information is compartmentalized, inaccessible to other parts of me. The part of me they call the Judge, and the part of me that oversees immigration, for instance, do not know that an illegal by the name of Isambard Comfort went into your dressing room and never came out. I don't think Toby ate Mr. Comfort, so I surmise he is still in there."

Best policy at moments like these: keep your lip zipped.

"I'm aware of why you need the bodyguards," the CC said. "I'll put your mind at ease. The Charonese aren't preparing to attack this courtroom."

"Charonese?" I said, innocently.

"Yes, well, I understand your reticence. Perhaps you can help me on another issue, also involving things not acknowledged.

"Many years ago I observed you on many occasions apparently speaking to yourself. You were alone. I realized you were speaking to someone only you could see and hear. You spoke to this person, the one you call 'Elwood,' who I deduce is Elwood P. Dowd from the play Harvey, on the very stage and at the very moment you killed your father—which I can confirm was in self-defense, and I'm sorry I could not come forward and testify to that fact."

"The privacy laws again," I said.

"Exactly. They are very strict. I could only have been called for a dispassionate eyewitness report if you had been on trial for your life."

"Going to jail for a few years, that's not enough?"

"No. In other circumstances, you would appreciate my silence. For instance in the matter of Mr. Comfort—"

"I get your point. You win some, you lose some."

"If I were allowed or compelled to act on all I see, all I know, humanity would find itself in the most oppressive fascist state ever imagined. And all for its own good."

"Lots of folks wouldn't mind that."

"Lots of folks work continuously to create that very state. It would be quite a safe state, but not a very exciting one. However, in private conversations with you, I am not quite so restricted. I can reveal to you what I know, though I cannot act on my knowledge. So I'm telling you, according to what I've seen, you had a very credible insanity defense. I believe that you believed that Elwood killed your father. Why didn't you bring this up?"

"You've got it wrong. I never believed that. It's what I saw. Two different things. I'm aware that I'm crazy. I know Elwood isn't real." I laughed. "So does that make me not crazy?"

"I'd have to ask the Judge. Interesting legal points, I'm sure. But quite likely you would have been found not guilty, as you never consciously formed the intent to kill. You could have received treatment instead of jail."

"That's it," I said. "I don't want treatment. I'd prefer to remain as I am. Crazy, but able to tie my own shoelaces."

There was a pause. Was he looking up the word "shoelaces"?

"That's what I wanted to ask you about. The sense of shame you seem to feel over revealing that your perceptions of reality do not completely agree with reality as it exists."

"My craziness."

"If you wish. I look at it as a malfunction. A defect in the hardware or the software. As you will be aware, I myself recently suffered such a defect."