I’m Not Their Judge
by Shelia Cody
Will tried to sound cheerful. “How’s life in the wishing well?”
“Bad news first,” Dr. Roth said, handing Will a tablet. “I have only three. We’ve had lots of requests for them recently.”
Will was relieved. He hated window shopping. “What’s the good news?”
“Each is in prime condition. Two male, one female. When do you leave?”
“Two days.”
“What’s the Kill Probability?”
“Seventy-eight percent.”
A rare smile broke Dr. Roth’s stony face. “You’re dead meat. It’s a good thing your choices are promising.”
Will wondered which of those things made the doc happier, the fact that Will was dead meat or that the choices were promising. “I’ve had worse KP,” he said, shrugging. “I could make it out alive.”
Dr. Roth’s smile faded. “You’ve always said you don’t care if you’re taken down on a mission. Why the change of heart? Are you getting attached?”
“Maybe I am.” Will hadn’t meant to say it, but he couldn’t take it back now.
Dr. Roth’s eyes darkened. “Have you reported this to Leadership?”
Will raised his brows and smirked to give the face a light-hearted surprised expression. “Relax. It was a bad joke. There’s nothing to report.”
Except it was harder to accept each new reflection in the mirror. Still, Will wasn’t going to mention it and subject himself to the reviews — or worse.
“Let’s see the showroom,” Will said, opening the first file. He scanned biological data as TN2481’s image materialized above the volumetric display pad on Dr. Roth’s desk. Wiry but muscular frame. Three knife scars on the torso, but exceptional health stats.
“Animal,” Dr. Roth said. “In and out of jail. Landed in Shangri-La for gunning down a supermarket on a Saturday afternoon. Killed sixteen, some at point-blank as they begged for their lives. Gruesome scene if you want to watch the videos.”
Will rolled his eyes. He usually didn’t mind the doc’s elaborations on the goriest parts of their crimes, but today it annoyed him.
“What did he get?” Will asked.
“A house on the beach, beautiful women, the usual.” Dr. Roth looked up from the display and searched Will’s face. “You’re the only agent who asks that question. Why do you care?”
“I’m curious what these people think paradise looks like.” Will didn’t mention he was spending more time wondering what they were doing when he ended it for them. “But there you go; it’s beaches and babes.”
Will opened the second file, and AZ2213’s image rotated before him. Well-defined muscles, superior health stats, attractive. Only nineteen years old. Baby-faced.
“Serial killer,” Dr. Roth said. “Lost his family, inherited a fortune. Turned his mansion into a torture chamber. Worked out hours a day in his home gym. The bullet holes are unfortunate but easily removed. No significant muscle wasting yet.”
“That’s not a face that’ll be taken seriously,” Will said. He’s just a kid.
“Grow a beard. Does it bother you that he’s so young?”
Dr. Roth eyed Will, no doubt looking for cracks.
Since Will had passed his estimated age of death he’d expected more frequent and close examinations, so the doctor’s suspicion came as no surprise. But Will decided he’d have to hold his concerns closer to the chest.
“No.” Will sighed impatiently. “The tattoos are too identifiable.”
“Those can also be removed.”
“I’ll consider it. What did he want?”
“He said his dream was to live in Disneyland. I don’t know if he was serious, but I gave it to him. It’s not for me to judge.”
“And the woman?” Will asked.
“You can see her metrics, but she’s in prep. Best health stats of the bunch. She’ll be in the chamber within the hour. Want to see her?”
Dr. Roth tapped his computer screen, then turned it to face Will. “She’s still awake.”
She’d been crying. With swollen, pleading eyes and a mouth distorted in pain, she seemed to be screaming at the doctor at her bedside. She fought against restraints that kept her from ripping tubes from her body.
“Can you turn on the sound?” Will asked.
Her voice was strained and desperate. “Please! You know I didn’t hurt anyone. I don’t want to die.”
“Jane,” the doctor said, his tone calm and melodic, “there’s nothing for you here but suffering. Your family, your children, are waiting for you in the chamber.”
“It’s not real,” Jane whimpered. “What if I don’t remember?”
“Some things are best forgotten.”
“I’ll be chosen too soon. Please help me.”
The doctor chuckled. “When the agents come around, I’ll put in a bad word for you.”
Uncomfortable guilt gnawed at Will’s defenses. But he refused to let it in; too much was on the line. The agency could retire his own soul at any time, reclaiming his latest frame for another would-be hero. His fate was no different from hers. Pity will get me killed.
Dr. Roth cut the feed. “Is something wrong?”
Will squared his shoulders. “Of course not,” he said. “Sync me with the woman.”
“You don’t mind that she’s so new to the program?”
It was an odd question. Was this a test? It’s me or them.
“I don’t care,” Will said. “I need the fittest frame.”
“Excellent choice.” Dr. Roth tapped the screen, his jaw relaxing. “Let’s coordinate your chips. After that, you know the drill. Upon your death, you’ll be uploaded into your new frame, then twelve hours in the chamber for observation and you’re back in business.”
“You never said what she’s in for.”
“Kidnapping and false imprisonment. Want to know more?”
Were her crimes worthy of a death sentence? It was too late to change the selection anyway.
“With all the work you put in, does it bother you when they get a short afterlife?” Will asked.
Dr. Roth turned his gaze on Will. “It’s more than most get and more than they deserve. But I’m not their judge.”
“You’re the genie making wishes come true.”
“I’m happy to serve the deserving.” Dr. Roth returned to his screen. “You agents are true heroes.”
Will was no hero, but he’d never tell. He wasn’t in the job to uphold justice as much as he was in it to satisfy his swelling greed for more years of life. What did it matter, as long as the results were the same? He’d recommit to his mission and stop looking in the mirror so much.
It’s me or them. You blew it, Jane, and I’m still one of the good guys.
