"Don't you touch me again," Katie snouted as Nicole approached her, Katie's eyes were full of tears. "And spare me your self-righteous pity."
The cell was momentarily quiet. Katie finished her cigarette and tried to compose herself. "Look," she said at length, "I don't give a shit what you feel about me—that's not important—but why, Mother, why can't you think about Patrick and Ellie and even little Nicole? Is being a saint so important to you that they should suffer because of it?"
"In time," Nicole replied, "they will understand."
"In time," Katie said angrily, "you'll be dead. In a very short time… Do you realize that the moment I walk out of here and tell Nakamura that there's no deal, the date for your trial will be set? And that you have no chance at all, absolutely no fucking chance?"
"You cannot scare me, Katie."
"I cannot scare you, I cannot touch you, I cannot even appeal to your judgment. Like all good saints, you listen to your own voices."
Katie took a deep breath. "Then I guess this is it… Good-bye, Mother." Despite herself, fresh tears appeared in Katie's eyes.
Nicole wept openly. "Good-bye, Katie," she said. "I love you."
10
The defense may now make its closing statement."
Nicole rose from her chair and walked around the table. She was surprised that she was so tired. The two years in prison had definitely diminished her legendary stamina.
She slowly approached the jury of four men and two women. The woman in the front row, Karen Stolz, had been originally from Switzerland. Nicole had known the woman fairly well when Mrs. Stolz and her husband had owned and operated the bakery around the corner from the Wakefield home in Beauvois.
"Hello again, Karen," Nicole said quietly, stopping directly in front of the jurors. They were sitting in two rows of three seats each. "How are John and Marie? They must be teenagers by now."
Mrs. Stolz squirmed in her seat. "They're fine, Nicole," she replied very softly.
Nicole smiled. "And do you still make those wonderful cinnamon rolls every Sunday morning?"
The crack of the gavel resounded through the courtroom. "Mrs. Wakefield," Judge Nakamura said, "this is hardly the time for small talk. Your closing statement is limited to five minutes and the clock has already started."
Nicole ignored the judge. She leaned across the barrier between her and the jury, her eyes focusing on a magnificent necklace around Karen Stolz's neck. "The jewels are beautiful," she said in a whisper. "But they would have paid much, much more."
Again the gavel cracked. Two guards quickly approached Nicole, but she had already backed away from Mrs. Stolz. "Ladies and gentlemen of the jury," Nicole said, "all this week you have listened as the prosecution has repeatedly insisted that I have incited resistance to the legitimate government of New Eden. For my putative actions I have been charged with sedition. You must now decide, on the basis of the evidence presented at this trial, if I am guilty. Please remember as you deliberate that sedition is a capital offense—a guilty verdict carries with it a mandatory death penalty.
"In my closing statement, I would like to examine carefully the structure of the prosecution's case. The testimony on the first day, all of which was totally irrelevant to the charges against me and, I believe, was permitted by Judge Nakamura in clear violation of the colony codicils covering testimony in capital offense trials—"
"Mrs. Wakefield," Judge Nakamura angrily interrupted, "as I have told you before this week, I cannot tolerate such disrespectful comments in my courtroom. One more similar remark and I will not only cite you for contempt, I will also terminate your closing statement altogether."
"That entire day, the prosecution attempted to show,that my sexual morality was questionable, and that therefore I was somehow a likely candidate to engage in political conspiracy," Nicole continued, without so much as glancing at the judge. "Ladies and gentlemen, I would be happy to discuss privately with you the unusual circumstances associated with the conception of each of my six children. However, my sex life—past, present, or even future—has no bearing whatsoever on this trial. Except for its possible value as entertainment, that first day of testimony was absolutely meaningless."
There were a few titters in the packed gallery, but the guards quickly quieted the crowd. "The prosecution's next set of witnesses," Nicole continued, "spent many hours implicating my husband for seditious activities. I freely admit that I am married to Richard Wakefield. But his guilt—or lack of it, for that matter—is not of any importance at this trial either. Only evidence that purports to show me guilty of sedition is germane to your verdict here.
"The prosecution has suggested that my seditious acts originated with my involvement in the video that eventually resulted in the establishment of this colony. I acknowledge that I did help prepare the video that was transmitted from Rama to the Earth, but I categorically deny that I either conspired from the beginning with the aliens or in any way schemed with the extraterrestrials who built this spaceship against my fellow humans.
"I participated in the making of that video, as I indicated yesterday when I allowed the prosecutor to cross-examine me, because I felt I had no choice. My family and I were at the mercy of an intelligence and power far beyond anything any of us had ever imagined. There was a significant concern that failure to accede to their request for help with the video would have resulted in reprisals against us."
Nicole returned to the defense table briefly and drank some water. She then turned around to face the jury again. "That leaves only two possible sources for any real evidence to convict me of sedition—my daughter Katie's testimony and that strange audio recording, a disjointed collection of comments that I made to other members of my family after I was imprisoned, that you heard yesterday morning.
"You are all well aware how easily recordings like that can be twisted and manipulated. The two, key audio technicians both admitted yesterday on the witness stand that they had listened to hundreds of hours of conversation between my children and me before coming up with that thirty minutes of 'damaging evidence,' no more than eighteen seconds of which were taken from any single conversation. To say that my comments on that recording were presented out of context would be an understatement.
"With respect to the testimony of my daughter Katie Wakefield, I can only say, with great sorrow, that she lied repeatedly in her original remarks. I have not ever had any knowledge of my husband Richard's supposedly illegal activities and I have certainly never supported him in them.
"You recall that under cross-examination by me, Katie became confused about the facts and ultimately repudiated her earlier testimony before collapsing on the witness stand. The judge has advised you that my daughter has recently been in fragile mental health, and that you should ignore the comments she made under emotional duress during my questioning. I beseech you to remember every word that Katie said, not only when the prosecutor was asking her questions, but also during the time that I was trying to obtain the specific dates and places for the seditious actions that she had ascribed to me."
Nicole approached the jurors one final time, carefully making eye contact with each of them. "Ultimately, you must judge where the truth lies in this case. I face you now with a heavy heart, disbelieving even as I stand here the events that have led to my being accused of these serious crimes. I have served both the colony and the human species well. I am not guilty of any of the charges against me. Whatever power or intelligence exists in this amazing universe will recognize that fact, regardless of the outcome of this trial."
The outside light was fading quickly. A contemplative Nicole leaned against the wall in her cell, wondering if this would be the last night of her life. She shuddered involuntarily. Since the verdict had been announced, Nicole had gone to sleep each night expecting to die the next day.
The Garcia brought her dinner soon after it was dark. The food had been much better the last few days. As she slowly ate her grilled fish Nicole reflected on the five years
since she and her family had met that first scouting party from the Pinta. What went wrong here? Nicole asked herself. What were our fundamental mistakes?
She could hear Richard's voice in her head. Always cynical and distrustful of human behavior, he had suggested at the end of the first year that New Eden was too good for humanity. "We'll eventually ruin it as we have the Earth," he had said. "Our genetic baggage—the whole bit, you know, territoriality and aggression and reptilian behavior—is too strong for education and enlightenment to overcome. Look at O'Toole's heroes, both of them, Jesus and that young Italian, St. Michael of Siena. They were destroyed because they suggested that humans should try to be more than clever chimpanzees."
But here, in New Eden, Nicole thought, there was so much opportunity for a better world. The basics of life were provided. We were surrounded by unambiguous evidence that there was intelligence in the universe far beyond ours. That should have produced an environment in which…
She finished her fish and pulled the small chocolate pudding over in front of her. Nicole smiled to herself, remembering how much Richard had loved chocolate. I have missed him very much, she thought. Especially his conversation and his insight.
Nicole was startled to hear footsteps coming toward her cell. A deep chill of fear coursed through her body. Her visitors were two young men, each of them carrying lanterns. They were wearing the uniforms of Nakamura's special police.
The men came into the cell in a very businesslike manner. They did not introduce themselves. The older one, probably in his mid-thirties, quickly pulled out a document and began to read. "Nicole des Jardins Wakefield," he said, "you have been convicted of the crime of sedition and will be executed at 0800 tomorrow morning. Your breakfast will be served at 0630, ten minutes after first light, and we will come to take you to the execution chamber at 0730. You will be strapped into the electric chair at 0758 and current will be applied exactly two minutes later… Do you have any questions?"
Nicole's heart was beating so rapidly she could hardly breathe. She struggled to calm herself. "Do you have any questions?" the policeman repeated.
"What is your name, young man?" Nicole asked, her voice breaking.
"Franz," the man answered after a puzzled hesitation.
"Franz what?" Nicole said.
"Franz Bauer," he replied.
"Well, Franz Bauer," Nicole said, trying to force a smile. "Can you please tell me how long it will take me to die? After you apply the current, of course."
"I don't really know," he said, somewhat flustered. "You'll lose consciousness almost instantly, in just a couple of seconds. But I don't know how long—"
"Thank you," Nicole said, starting to feel faint. "Could you go now, please? I would like to be alone." The two men opened the door to the cell. "Oh, by the way," Nicole added, "could you possibly leave the lantern? And maybe a pen and paper, or even an electronic notebook?"
Franz Bauer shook his head. "I'm sorry," he said. "We cannot."
Nicole waved him away and crossed to the far side of her cell. Two letters, she said to herself, breathing slowly to gather strength. I only wanted to write two letters. One to Katie and one to Richard. I've made my final peace with everyone else.
After the policemen had departed Nicole recalled the long hours that she had spent in the pit in Rama II many years before, when she had expected to die from starvation. She had passed what she had then thought were her last days reliving the happy moments of her life. That's not necessary now, she thought. There is no event from my past that has not been thoroughly scrutinized already. That's the benefit of two years in prison.
Nicole was surprised to discover that she was angry about not being able to write the final two letters, I'll bring the subject up again in the morning. They'll let me write the letters if I make enough noise. Despite herself, Nicole smiled. "Do not go gently…" she quoted out loud.
Suddenly she felt her pulse rate increase again. In her mind's eye Nicole saw an electric chair in a dark room. She was sitting in it; a strange helmet was wrapped around her head. The helmet began to glow and Nicole saw herself slump forward.
Dear God, she thought, wherever and whatever you are. Please give me some courage now. I am very frightened.
Nicole sat down on her bed in the darkness of her room. In a few minutes she felt better, almost calm. She found herself wondering what the instant of death would be like. Is it just like going to sleep, and then there's nothing? Or does something special happen at that very last moment, something that no living person can ever know?
There was a voice calling her from far away. Nicole stirred but did not wake up completely. "Mrs. Wakefield," the voice called again.
Nicole sat up quickly in her bed, thinking it was morning. She felt a surge of fear as her mind told her that she had only two more hours to live. "Mrs. Wakefield," the voice said, "over here, outside your cell… It's Amadou Diaba."
Nicole rubbed her eyes and strained to see the figure in the dark by the door. "Who?" she said, slowly walking across the room.
"Amadou Diaba. Two years ago you helped Dr. Turner do my heart transplant."
"What are you doing here, Amadou? And how did you get inside?"
"I came to bring you something. I bribed everybody necessary. I had to see you."
Even though the man was only five meters away from her, Nicole could see only his vague outline in the darkness. Her tired eyes were playing tricks on her as well. Once, when she tried especially hard to focus, she momentarily thought her visitor was her great-grandfather Omeh. A sharp chill raced through her body.
"All right, Amadou," Nicole said at length. "What is it that you have brought me?"
"I must explain it first," he said. "And even then it may not make any sense… I don't understand it fully myself. I just know that I had to bring it to you tonight."
He paused a moment. When Nicole did not say anything, Amadou told his story very rapidly. "The day after I was selected for Lowell Colony, while I was still in Lagos, I received this strange message from my Senoufo grandmother, telling me that it was very urgent that I come to see her. I went at my first opportunity, which was two weeks later, after I had received still another message from my grandmother insisting that my visit was a matter of life and death.
"When I arrived at her village in the Ivory Coast, it was the middle of the night. My grandmother awakened and dressed immediately. Accompanied by our village medicine man, we took a long trek across the savanna that very night. I was exhausted by the time we reached our destination, a little village named Nidougou."
"Nidougou?" Nicole interrupted.
"That's right," Amadou replied. "Anyway, there was a strange, wizened man there who must have been some kind of super Shaman. My grandmother and our medicine man stayed in Nidougou while this man and I made the strenuous climb up a nearby barren mountain to the side of a small lake. We arrived just before sunrise. 'Look,' the old man said when the first rays of the sun hit the lake. 'Look into the Lake of Wisdom. What do you see?'
"I told him I saw thirty or forty melonlike objects resting on the bottom of one side of the lake. 'Good,' he said with a smile. 'You are indeed the one.'
"'I am the one what?' I asked.
"He never answered. We walked around the lake, nearer to where the melons had been submerged—we couldn't see them any longer as the sun rose higher in the sky—and the super shaman pulled out a small vial. He dipped it into the water, put a cap on it, and handed it to me. He also gave me a small stone, which looked and was shaped like the melonlike objects on the bottom of the lake.
"'These are the most important gifts you will ever receive,' he said.
"'Why?' I said.
"A few seconds later his eyes became completely white and he fell into a trance, chanting in rhythmic Senoufo. He danced for several minutes and then suddenly jumped into the cold lake for a swim.
"'Wait a minute,' I shouted. 'What shall I do with your gifts?'
"'Take them with you e
verywhere,' he said. 'You will know the time to use them.'"
Nicole thought that the beating of her heart was so loud that even Amadou could hear it. She extended her arm through the bars of her cell and touched his shoulder. "And last night," she said, "a voice in a dream, or maybe it wasn't a dream after all, told you to bring the vial and the stone to me tonight."
"Exactly" Amadou said. He paused. "How did you know?"
Nicole did not answer. She could not speak. Her entire body was trembling. Moments later, when Nicole felt the two objects in her hand, her knees were so weak that she thought she was going to fall. She thanked Amadou twice and urged him to leave before he was discovered.
She walked slowly across the cell to her bed. Can it be? And how can it be? All this somehow known from the beginning? Manna melons on the Earth? Nicole's system was overloaded. I have lost control, she thought, and I have not even drunk from the vial yet.
Just holding the vial and the stone reminded Nicole vividly of the incredible vision she had experienced at the bottom of the pit in Rama II. Nicole opened the vial. She took two deep breams and swallowed its contents hurriedly.
At first she thought nothing was happening. The blackness all around her did not seem to change. Then suddenly a great orange ball formed in the middle of the cell. It exploded, spreading color all across the darkness. A red ball followed, then a purple one. While Nicole was recoiling from the brilliance of the purple explosion, she heard a loud laugh outside her window. She glanced in that direction. The cell disappeared. Nicole was outside in a field.
It was dark, but she could still see outlines of objects. Off in the distance Nicole heard the laugh again. Amadou, she called in her mind. Nicole raced across the field at blinding speed. She was catching the man. As she drew closer, his face changed. It was not Amadou at all. It was Omeh.
He laughed again and Nicole stopped. Ronata, he called. His face was growing. Larger, ever larger, it was as big as a car, then as big as a house. His laughter was deafening. Omeh's face was a huge balloon, rising high, ever higher into the dark night. He laughed once more and his balloon face exploded, showering Nicole with water. She was drenched. She was submerged, swimming underneath the water. When Nicole surfaced she was in the oasis pond in the Ivory Coast, where as a seven-year-old girl she had confronted the lioness during the Poro. The same lioness was prowling the perimeter of the pond. Nicole was a little girl again. She was very frightened.
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