The Last Man on Earth Club

by Paul R. Hardy

  The man from the ICT, Eremis Ai, spoke up. “Each of your patients will need to make a formal representation to the ICT. We’re ready to start full investigations on behalf of any of them.”

  “Really, Mr. Ai?” Henni raised an eyebrow.

  “Well. In due course. We’ll have to prioritise to begin with, but in principle—”

  “Let’s be realistic, shall we? These are going to be some of your first investigations, so it’s not going to be fast.” She looked to me. “Please bear that in mind and make sure your patients don’t have any unrealistic expectations.”

  “Of course,” I said.

  “And Iokan?” asked Baheera. The air between her and Henni chilled fifteen degrees, even though they weren’t in the same room.

  “Yes, of course, him as well,” said Henni.

  Baheera looked at me. “I trust you’ll give him every assistance with his representation.”

  “I can’t comment on what he might do, ma’am,” I said.

  A frown came from nowhere. “I’m sorry?”

  “It’s a confidential matter between patient and therapist.”

  “But he has been more co-operative recently? I believe he allowed us access to the Department Zero archives…?”

  “Yes, I know. I’ve been reviewing the data. But I can’t talk about specifics of therapy.”

  She looked a little frustrated, while Henni seemed rather satisfied. I could usually ignore the political games going on above my head, but perhaps those days were ending, if Baheera was suddenly looking for ‘results’ in her mission to find out what happened on Iokan’s homeworld.

  Eremis cleared his throat. “When do you think we’ll be able to see representations?”

  “It depends upon my patients. And how much information you need.”

  “Just a short statement for now.”

  “I expect you’ll get something from us in a week or so.”

  3. Group

  The press conference was scheduled on the same day as a group therapy session, so I changed the session time to the same as the press conference, and personally made sure everyone attended.

  “What’s so bloody important?” asked Olivia.

  “There’s going to be a press conference in a few minutes,” I said, bringing up the feed from the IU media channel on a wall, “and it concerns all of you, so I thought we’d watch it before we start on the group session.” A graphic came up; the broadcast hadn’t begun yet.

  “What’s it about?” asked Liss. She still had polymer casings on her arms, but her burns were nearly healed.

  “Is it… the ICT?” croaked Iokan, his throat still affected.

  “Yes. Things have been happening fast.”

  “They actually did it…?” said Liss, shocked.

  “Yes.”

  “Typical,” said Olivia. “Don’t do a bloody thing to help us but as soon as someone punches them in the nose they get all hoity-toity about it.”

  “It’s starting,” said Pew, already intent on the screen.

  The graphic cut to a shot of a distant table on a stage, with hundreds of journalists from every species waiting before it. The camera zoomed in on the stage as the IU insignia shimmered into life behind the table, along with the logo of the Interversal Criminal Tribunal.

  “What happened to the newsreaders?” asked Liss.

  “This is a direct feed,” I said. “It’s what gets sent to the media before they add all their bits and pieces.”

  I turned up the sound. Sudden shouts came from the press as the camera swept to the left to track the entry of three people, blattered by camera flashes: I recognised Jary Conel, chief spokesman for the IU directorate, familiar from a thousand broadcasts; Ovile Dalass, shadow director of the ICT, a woman with a piercing police gaze, and Eremis Ai, who was plainly more important than I knew.

  They took their places at the table, and the image cut to a tight shot of Jary Conel. “Good morning,” he said. “Thank you all for coming. We’re here to make an announcement, followed by questions. Let me start with the main announcement.” The camera flashes intensified. “From today at twelve noon, the Interversal Union will formally activate the Interversal Criminal Tribunal. This decision has not been taken lightly, nor has it been taken as an act of revenge against those who attacked Hub. This is a recognition that the Interversal Union, as the only organisation with the ability to do so, has a responsibility to deal with criminal acts that take place between universes.

  “I’ll hand you over now to Ms. Ovile Dalass, the shadow director of the ICT, and shortly to be the first director.”

  The camera swung to find a shot of her. “Thank you. First of all I’d like to thank the General Director of the IU for placing his confidence in me and my organisation. Secondly, please do not imagine we will be an interversal police force looking over everyone’s shoulders. Our remit will be to investigate the very worst abuses of one universe upon another, and bring to light offences that shame every species of humanity.”

  The group watched as further details were given: the ICT would be hiring investigators from a wide variety of IU member species. It would have powers of arrest on universes that permitted it. It could not impose or seek a death penalty. Then the session was opened up to questions.

  “If I may put to you a hypothetical case…” said a journalist.

  “Certainly,” said Eremis Ai.

  “If you discovered an act of genocide committed by one universe upon another, but you didn’t have the co-operation of the authorities in the universe that was guilty, how is it possible you could bring anyone to justice? Isn’t this just an academic exercise?”

  “I think it’s much more than that,” said Eremis. “I think it’s about letting people know not only that these things happen, but who actually commits these crimes. People must know that if they abuse people on another universe, they cannot expect to do so without interversal scrutiny. We’re not just going to be trying the guilty. Our reports are going to be made public so people can make up their own minds about who they’re dealing with.”

  “Goddamn politician…” said Liss.

  “Liss?” I asked.

  “He didn’t answer the question!”

  “Let’s discuss it once the conference is over, okay?”

  She settled back down and the questions and answers went on. No, the IU would not be creating an interversal police force. Nor would it create a military. It reserved the right to enact sanctions upon member species but these were never to be taken lightly. A question was directed to Ovile Dalass.

  “Could the director tell us how the activation of the ICT is related to the recent discovery of a planet on which every single person had committed suicide?”

  Iokan looked up at the screen.

  “We’re looking at a number of instances of genocide,” said Ovile. “I can’t go into specific cases.”

  “That’s all we have time for,” said Jary Conel. “I’m sure you have many more questions but we have an appointment with the General Director at noon. There’ll be further announcements later in the day.”

  Questions followed them as they went, and I switched off the screen.

  “Well, that’s it. I do have a few words to say about how this affects you…”

  “When did… they tell you?” asked Iokan.

  “Yesterday. I’m sorry I couldn’t say anything earlier, but obviously this affects you all. The ICT would be happy to hear from any of you who would like a formal investigation launched—”

  “What good’s that going to do me?” demanded Olivia. “Are they going to investigate my world? Are they going to ask why my species is dead? Of course they bloody aren’t. And you know why? It’s because you lot were late! If you hadn’t been so bloody scared of a couple of revenants I wouldn’t be the last one left! Who’s going to prosecute anyone about that?”

  I took a breath; but this was an issue I’d foreseen. “That’s a good point. They’re still deciding whether or not they can de
al with cases of negligence—”

  “Like they’ll ever bloody do anything. How are they going to bring a prosecution against themselves?”

  “I don’t know. As I said, they haven’t decided. Would you like to make the representation so they can at least consider it?”

  “For all the good it’ll do…”

  “Anyone else?” I asked.

  Iokan spoke up. “I think… this is a very positive step… I think this will help… many of us to…”

  “Do you need to use a pad?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “I think… it will help us… to know who… and how… and why… it…” He pulled up his mask and gasped more oxygen.

  “Just use a pad, for heaven’s sake,” said Liss. After a moment more of huffing, Iokan gave up and did so, transferring the words to the wall in letters half a metre high.

  I think it will help us all if we knew who attacked our worlds. & how it was done and why. & that there is justice.

  The words floated on the wall while the others read them. Kwame in particular seemed nervous. Olivia tutted in disgust.

  Liss looked at Iokan. “Let me just ask one question.”

  Of course.

  “How exactly do you arrest an energy field?”

  Iokan looked confused.

  “Your Antewhatevers. What do you think’s going to happen to them?”

  Iokan tapped at his pad. Antecessors not for prosecution. I provided info on people who attacked world previ

  Liss cut in before he could finish typing. “Which crime do you think they’re going to deal with first? A few attacks or a genocide? They brought it up in the press conference! How are they not going to go after them?”

  Iokan seemed hurt. I asked them not to.

  “Do you think that’s going to matter? They’re not going to ask for your permission. They found a crime scene, they’ve got the go ahead to do something about it. Right?” She looked to me for support. Iokan did too.

  “She’s right,” I said. “They can proceed by themselves if they have clear evidence of genocide.”

  Why ask us then?

  “You are the only witness. And what happened isn’t obvious. So they’ll need your help.”

  “Hah. They might find out who actually did it instead of this antethingummy nonsense,” said Olivia.

  I will refuse to co-operate.

  “Won’t matter. They’ll go ahead anyway,” said Liss.

  Iokan gave her a hard, angry look, and stabbed at his pad.

  And will you volunteer to help?

  “What?”

  You have police status.

  “Not on this world.”

  Your enemies might be my world’s enemies. Why not volunteer?

  “How the hell is that going to help?”

  So you don’t want them found.

  “What? Of course I want them found!”

  Then why not help?

  She was angry now, fumbling for words. “Because… because… I’m not a cop! I’d end up making a mess of it, what’s the point in that?”

  Just saying you have your own reasons for doing nothing.

  “Bullshit—” But Iokan was tapping away again.

  It is valid choice. You should not be ashamed.

  “Bullshit! I don’t — I mean, who apart from you doesn’t want the bad guys in prison?” She looked to the rest of the group. “Kwame? You want to see yourself put away, right?”

  Kwame looked up, surprised and uncertain. “I do not know.”

  “What do you mean, you don’t know?”

  “I have… learned many things. And other things are unsure. If… if I was the one then I should be punished.” He swallowed. “If I am guilty I will accept my punishment.”

  “Okay…” said Liss, surprised by his reticence. “Anyone else?”

  Pew looked about, then opened his mouth to speak. “I… I…”

  “I do not require the assistance of the Interversal Criminal Tribunal,” said Katie, before Pew could finish.

  “Well, no, you wouldn’t…” said Liss.

  “The genocide in my universe was an act of war. War is not addressed by criminal investigators.”

  “Actually, Katie, it would be if it were a war crime,” I said.

  Her head jerked to one side. It took only a second for her to regain control. “It is also counterindicated by the lack of interversal interference.”

  “They may want to investigate anyway, in order to rule that out.”

  Her eyes twitched. “It is not possible to punish a whole species.” Pew tried to speak up again, but Katie was louder. “What could the punishment be? You do not even have a military!”

  She fell silent, and stared ahead. We would have assumed this was one of her quirks, but for the way her mouth fell slack.

  “Katie? Can you hear me? Katie?” I said. But she would not respond.

  Seizing, wrote Iokan as I called for medical help.

  Her jaw reset itself and she looked around, checking her surroundings.

  “Katie? I think you just had a seizure. Can you hear me?”

  “Yes. I am well. I—” Her back straightened and her head whipped back. She forced herself into a normal sitting position, trembling with the effort. “You… cannot punish… a whole… species…”

  Tremors ran down her left side and her remaining arm. Words came from gritted teeth.

  “Cannot! Kill! Them! All!”

  She pitched forward onto the coffee table, scattering cups and the tissue box, thrashing wildly. The group leapt back and took cover as a single uncoordinated kick propelled Pew’s vacated chair across the room. Katie’s head slammed up and down as though driven by a piston, smashing into the coffee table, splitting it, and crashing her onto the floor in the ruins. Liss jumped in and did her best to hold Katie down, managing to keep her still long enough for the medics and security to arrive.

  Katie’s limbs slackened as they administered a sedative. The spasms left her. Liss took a relieved breath.

  “I have regained control. You may release me,” said Katie to Liss, who let go. Katie unfolded into a standing position with all her old precision. The sedative clearly had an effect, but would not last long before Katie metabolised it. I stepped forward over the debris.

  “Katie, is this likely to happen again?”

  “I am fully under control.”

  “I’m not sure I feel comfortable with the situation as it is. I’m going to have to exclude you from the rest of today’s session.”

  “I am able to control myself.”

  “Bullshit,” said Liss, trying to scratch at her polymer-clad arms.

  “I can control myself!”

  “Katie. I don’t think that’s true. We’re going to have to look at some other way of involving you in these sessions. For now I need you to go to the infirmary with the medics.”

  “If that is what you wish,” she muttered, and left.

  * * *

  I let the remaining members of the group have a short break to allow tension to subside, for the mess to be cleared up by the domestic staff, and also to allow a nurse to take a look at Liss’s arms. There was only a slight abrasion due to the scuffle, and some soothing cream was applied. The others made hot drinks, and we reconvened twenty minutes later around a new coffee table.

  What will happen to her? wrote Iokan.

  “I think it’s clear her condition is reaching the point where she’s dangerous to others.”

  “State the obvious…” said Olivia.

  “I’ll have to think about how she can be included in the group.”

  “Why bother? Just let her die if she wants to die.”

  “That’s not up for discussion. Now, I think Liss had a question? And Pew was going to answer, before Katie interrupted?”

  “Oh. Uh. Yeah, “ said Liss. “You want to see the Soo punished, right? I mean you’re always saying that…”

  “I…” Pew stopped dead, eyes lost in troubled thought.


  “Pew?” I asked.

  He looked around the group, then shook his head. “She was right. You can’t punish a whole species.”

  “I guess not…”

  “They should suffer for what they did. But it’s impossible. What do you do, drop bombs on them?”

  The group was quiet for a moment. Iokan tapped his pad. Words came up on the wall.

  Worse things have been done. Is this what you want?

  Pew was tense and angry as he spoke. “I want them to pay.”

  “Doesn’t do any good,” said Olivia. “You can’t kill ’em all. Why bother?”

  “You have to do something…” said Liss.

  “Oh, of course, says the one who won’t actually do anything herself,” said Olivia.

  “You can’t let them get away with it!” said Pew.

  “I’m not saying you should,” said Liss. “I’m just saying it’s not your responsibility. There’s someone else who can do it for you.”

  “They won’t,” said Olivia.

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I know this lot. They won’t do a damned thing.”

  “You don’t know shit.”

  “I know a damn sight more than you do.”

  “Olivia,” I said.

  “What?”

  “Let the others talk.”

  She grumped and sat back in her chair.

  “I don’t think we finished discussing Pew’s concerns,” I said. “Pew, can you tell us a bit more about what worries you?”

  “I… I just think… even if they find the Soo guilty, what can they do?”

  Iokan typed. He has a point.

  “There are a number of things they could do,” I said. “It depends on the situation. If individuals were guilty, they might be extradited for trial—”

  Including heads of state?

  “Do the Antecessors have a head of state?” asked Liss.

  Iokan looked frustrated. I have stated my position.

  “Huh. Whatever.”

  I continued. “As I was saying — yes. They might want to put heads of state on trial. I don’t know how they’d get over the diplomatic issues.”

  “What if it’s not one person? What if it’s everyone?” asked Pew.

  “Well, there are always sanctions—”

  “What does that mean?” asked Pew.