In 2027, it all changed. We all knew that the world was changing, the subtle shifts in the paradigm of how we worked. We became obsessed with the latest technology, immersing ourselves in it. When it happened, we could never have predicted it. I never predicted it. I remember being sat in a room, watching on the television as it was broadcast to the world. There were gasps, faces wild with surprise and shock. People turned to look at me like I was to blame, like it was me who caused this tragic incident to happen. The truth is that I was no more responsible than the people looking at me. It was just another incident that we would all look upon as an episode etched onto the timeline. Or at least, that’s what I thought.
“You stand here accused of genocide, a crime punishable by death. How do you plead?”
The judge lorded over me like a great and noble warrior, his gavel a sword in the pursuit of justice. I looked upon him, a face solemn, emotionless. The public gallery was awash with faces, some hesitant, others expectant. The jury looked upon me, almost judging me with their harsh stares, their faces weaving a tapestry of emotion. I could see, in the corner of my eye, men and women weeping in the galleries above me and I almost felt a pang of sadness before I collected myself and looked at the judge with the same cold, hard stare that he was giving me.
“Not guilty.” I declared.
The crowd gasped and muttered their thoughts on this decision to enter trial. The judge hammered his gavel against the woodwork of his table, shouting for order to be restored. Guards in the public galleries looming over people who were more vocal than others. I could hear the shouts, the cries of “Murderer!” and the demands that I be “put to death”. I wasn’t sure how to react, knowing only that I had to remain standing, silent in the face of this cruel and unusual punishment. I was being mocked and abused, the justice system an outright sham as its principles were torn apart by passion and emotion.
I was told to be seated by the judge and the trial began. Prosecution lawyers began their opening statement, accusing me of betraying my position of power in an attempt to advance the interests of my own people. Lawyers well versed in rhetoric and passion deemed me a traitor and a heretic and claimed that I was in the pockets of governments. The arguments seemed altogether odd and misinterpreted, one moment betraying governments, the next moment being an accomplice to their ends. It was, I thought to myself, a farce. At last, the evidence began in earnest and it all started with a video. The same video that weeks before, audiences across the globe had watched, heart-broken and betrayed.
A large shuttle craft could be seen shooting past the camera at high speed. It was a standard shuttle-craft but scaled up, housing thousands of people from across the globe. The camera panned out and revealed, in the distant, a huge asteroid hurtling through space with small shards of rock coming apart as it hurtled through space. At that moment, the feed switched and paused. I saw that a scientist, a man named Dr. Asiroy, had demonstrated how the trajectory of the shuttle-craft was equivalent to the path of the asteroid, guaranteeing the death of the people inside. The demonstration was effective, making the audiences weep in their sadness. When the video finished, I was placed in the witness box.
“Tell me why you did what you did.” The prosecution lawyer asked.
“For the same reason that governments allow their prisons to execute justice - because it was right to do so.” I responded.
“Please, don’t be coy, sir. Answer the question.”
“I did.”
“Let me rephrase the question. What gave you the moral right to allow thousands of people to die in an act of brutal genocide, a tragic mark on our planet’s history?”
“The same moral right that governs everything - survival.”
“Survival, sir?” The prosecutor seemed puzzled by my response.
