The Summons

Chapter 18

I hadn't even started my training in trade school, but I was inspired to get started on my career in software development once I returned to my room after the day's confusing Interview. My particular interests were not with the monitors themselves, but I had come to know quite a bit about them and the programs used to operate them. The viewing screens and the data transfers they completed every second with practically incalculable speed were slightly more advanced than I'd studied, but if I were allowed to follow Grandad into the field when I completed school, I would eventually become an expert.

"May as well start now," I whispered.

I kept my voice low and moved about the room as quietly as I could manage—I didn't want my neighbor to think that I was in the mood for any conversation. Not after she revealed herself as some kind of deceptive agent. I'd mused that she might have been an Agent, but I couldn't believe that the Council would allow the interference, since the Agency was not meant to interact with Adjudicators or have anything to do with capital cases.

I swiped through various messages about the videos I had yet to review and a new option that had returned to the dining menu and found my way into the settings where I found options to magnify the screen, dim or brighten the view, and various ways to change the volume or connect hearing devices.

"I couldn't even figure out the earbuds," I reminded myself. The memory of my nickname made my stomach sting and I forced myself to remember also that while our viewing screens at home weren't as advanced as this, they were the base model and government provided.

"I'd rather spend the units toward your education than upgrade our screens," Grandad had told me each time I complained about a malfunction and had to wait for a diagnostic check.

"Oh!" I cried out in a whisper I thought to use almost too late.

There was nothing in the settings that provided what I was looking for, but my possibly treacherous neighbor had given me an idea. I pounded the side of the screen and it flashed a set of pixelated lines before it corrected the view. I tried again on the other side and a block of text corrupted the lower half of the screen and used wild characters and punctuation marks. The screen didn't reset itself, so I tried my luck again by smacking the screen harder.

"What's going on over there?" My neighbor called.

"Oh," I spat out as I watched the lower half of the screen return itself to normal and the top half turned a bright shade of green. "Just...these screens. You know?" I punctuated each word with a knock against the screen's sides until, at last, it turned black and began a diagnostic.

"Was yours acting up again?" she asked innocently.

"Yeah. Sorry, I hope it didn't mess yours up too." I tried to match her innocence but I could only hear the deceit in both our voices.

"Yeah," she said, sounding distant. "Mine's not working. Diagnostics."

I murmured another apology but I was focused on the screen and the manner in which it handled the error. A trick I'd learned from Grandad brought up a booting menu by holding down the left corner of the touchscreen. The options were there for the type of screen that would be loaded and the Adjudicators were listed by number. The unedited and fully operational version of the viewing screen was the fourth option and, curiously, a fifth option listed as monitor, was present but seemed to be disabled entirely. I started with Adjudicator One's screen. I would see just what my neighbor was up to.

"Your Judgement is in...two days?" She asked the question but she clearly already had all the answers.

"...yeah," I said after a moment of inattentiveness while browsing. There were videos listed as there were with mine and I tried to read and instantly forget the names attached to each clip, but there was something peculiar about them that I just couldn't place. I realized that my neighbor was trying to make small talk and I'd all but ignored her so she'd repeated her last question and then asked if I was still there. "Yeah. Yes. Yes I'm still here, sorry. I was...reviewing my notes before I submit."