The Legate took his seat at the conference table. His secretary had deposited the documents for the mornings meeting. As and where they should be. The table seated 12. The apostles. Browned polished mahogany. Hand crafted. Designed with the new way in mind. Regimes need a balance of pomp and austerity. Play to the throng. Theatrics give an air in which anything can happen. A mystery that panders to faith and thus anything goes.
Skyte quickly glanced through the agenda, the various notes. Building works, roads, schools, a vote to approve a new hospital (a formality), welfare, a general statement on poverty, economic policy and security. Absent mindedly he remembered the standing brothers and motioned that they should sit. He nodded to the acting chair that he was ready. Kratz's seat remained empty. Between Corm and Fisk. The other names included Moore, Bromst, Swan, Shaw, Mansour, Morle, Kraps, Glass and Chairman Crook.
Gentlemen, began Crook, it is with sadness that I must inform you of the resignation of Governor Kratz. The Chairman bowed his head for a moment, which like all else in the room was clean of hair. I understand that his position became untenable during the course of the night and that he offered his resignation which I accepted without reservations. I am sure that I do not stand alone in applauding his past achievements for this government. I consider him one of the great originators of thought and an architect of this Change of ours.
Is he still alive, asked Swan?
Skyte nodded.
Is that necessary, demanded Glass?
It is policy, stated Skyte.
This is Kratz we are talking about. Kratz. I am aware of the law, Legate, but Kratz- he... is a friend. Glass paused, and what man here has not done more? We are all capable of misdemeanours. Surely it is right to occasionally question. Doubt, I seem to remember is one of our tenets-
No, butted in the Chair, I am afraid councillor that it was muted as perhaps something that should make it to the statute books but in the end the word was abandoned.
Doubt, said Skyte, is indeed a very noble quality and a degree of questioning is entirely essential, always healthy, particularly in the young. However, Kratz, stepped beyond the borders of the permissible. He did not raise this crisis of conscience here as would have been correct. We are sworn as protectors and within this room exists a democracy. There is due process. If one feels uneasy about policy it should be thrown open to the floor. Kratz not only knew this, he created it.
Glass frowned.
This is not an overnight crack. A sudden compunction. We all know Kratz. We know that he is an individual who considers his position carefully. He is no impetuous maverick. He is a long haul man. A change of direction comes at the end of enormous consideration and planning. He is a man for whom action is the answer to an equation. And he does not play with small numbers.
Do we have proof, crept in Kraps? Documentation?
We have his crime. If there is more, breathed Skyte, it shall be suppressed.
And these children?
What of them?
You will catch them, creeped Kraps?
Skyte looked at him and smiled. But of course.
It was not over for Glass. Excuse me Legate. I still feel that Kratz's punishment is disproportionate to the level of his service.
Are you arguing that we stand above the law.
Glass smiled. No Legate. We are not above the law. If we commit any crime then we should be punished. And we should be transparent. But punishment should be swift. He paused for effect. He had the face of a lawyer, well fed, rounded. A man who enjoyed the finer things of life. Not a fatty. Not an indulger. An enjoyer. We should be seen to be lenient, rather that in the face of public opinion it might be better to fast track punishment. Let it be over quickly and it is out of the public eye. We can then be applauded for our expeditious determination of action.
Let's not do this behind closed doors, said Morle. Let's make a spectacle of him. The councillor has painted an uncomfortable mask of morality for us. It is not an object that we can hide. We cannot sweep it under the carpet. He has created a schism, at least that is how will be perceived. So let us make a show of our unity.
Skyte was never a man for theatre - for works of theatre must reach a conclusion. He was always clear that when it came to justice there is no final curtain. Punishment like damnation it is ultimately a private affair. Crowds bore of the same man screaming. And besides an audience has to be managed, the action must reach an emotional climax. The drum roll to the drop. In the early days of the movement in an attempt at openness punishments were made public. It was felt that death and torture could no longer be plied behind closed doors. This decision had nothing to do with crime prevention. Crime never fell. It was a futile exercise to attempt to put an end to it. No. Execution was a crowd pleasing exercise. At first, the works were swift. This was as much to do with the public's stomach for fast paced entertainment. The television and cinema was much to blame for this. Swift, fast and industrious. Death took on a monotony and the crowds dwindled. It was not until the capture of the former president and his closest aides, a band of individuals so despised by the public at large that there was no stadium big enough to house the event. It was clear from the outset that a simple hanging would not suffice and thus an elaborate sequence of suffering was put into place. To symbolise the stealing of the public purse and the general misuse of funds their hands were dipped into burning hot lead until they melted away. To express the splitting of the former state their limbs were tied to four horses which were then whipped into a gallop until shoulders and hips were ripped from torsos. Of course the horses were not trained and the whole process took a considerable amount of time. A great degree of stage management was demanded in later events. As a one-of it sufficed but even suffering needs dramatic rhythm. However, for this first event the crowds cheered and sang, quite sweetly in fact as the three men bobbed, mouthing voiceless words, on the legged stumps, their wounds sealed by hot tar. It took the vice president several hours to pass on and rumour has it the president still lingers somewhere. A romantic symbol of days gone by.
Skyte was not a man of the crowds, at least when he was not the centre of attention himself. Unlike the masses he did not relish that moment of death. When cameras were first introduced to these events they were kept in the distance. A blip in the distance became limp and that was it. In time audiences demanded more. Perhaps they did not believe the verisimilitude of what was served up for them. They demanded to see the action close up. The blade cutting flesh, the horses grunting, the teeth clenching, but most of all they demanded the look in the eyes at the moment of death. In Skyte's eyes this was cheap pornography and a perversion of justice. Justice is eternal. There should be no conclusion to satisfy a sense of primitive dramatis. He needed no emotional punch.
He did not harbour any notions of rehabilitation either. No-one at that table toyed with any such clemency. You spit on the state and the state spits on you.
So, continued Morle, shall we make something of this? It might raise the collective spirit.
We will need a trial, piped up Mansour.
Skyte's heart sank? That's a lot of work councillor. We are quite busy.
Oh come on, Legate, if a thing must be done it must be done properly. You all of all people should know that.
Even so.
Even so. Even so. Come, come. I think it could bolster morale.
As a secret policeman morale was the last thing on Skyte's mind.
You are always so dour Legate. Always so secretive. A show trial-
A show trial?
A show trial and public execution will be just what the nation needs. Entertainment. Entertainment, I might suggest, could be central to our survival.
Skyte raised his eyebrows, surely keeping a tight grip on things might serve us better.
Keeping our work entirely in the dark only breeds distrust and discontent. Don't worry Legate, you won't have to spend a great deal of time having to prove anything, we all know the councillor is guilty. I am sure he had already made a confession.
Well yes, in a manner. Skyte looked at his hands. This demeans us. Justice is of the shadows. Law lingers quietly in the corner. It makes not a song and dance. It plays not to the masses. It watches them.
And the masses are not children, Legate. The masses need pacifying and that is not best done shepherding them. We have witnessed an increase of anti Executive activity since we slipped out of the limelight. We have spent perhaps rather too much time doing our jobs well and not enough publicising our successes.
Councillor you are little out of touch with reality-
No, Legate. A fellow councillor has committed a grievous error. He cannot sink silently into the swamp of suffering without some public recourse. Do you think it will be generally accepted that punishment is reaped upon him in a similar fashion to that of any citizen. I think not. Nothing will be said openly. Not a word. And that my dear Legate is what must fear. We above all should be open... even if not entirely candid. If we make theatre then we encourage our enemies to do the same and then we will know where they are.
And besides, added Morle, recall the early days when punishment expressed the national mood. The out pouring of anger. It was the consolidation of collective choler and we would not be seated here without it. We have a responsibility to those that we represent. We should never forget this. We neglect it at out peril.
Skyte raised a hand in submission.
Chairman Crook smiled. We should vote on the issue. All those in favour raise your hand. Glass?
You must forgive me but Kratz is a personal friend. I have no issues against a trial or its inevitable outcome but I have known Kratz for many many years. I cannot vote for what I know will be a terrible end.
Perhaps you would care to defend him, suggested Skyte. His eyes caught Glass directly to conclude his question?
Glass's eyes narrowed sensing a trap.
The councillor is guilty but perhaps you might be able to paint an honourable picture of the fellow. Skyte smiled. He was a colleague and friend to us all and I can think of no better advocate for his cause.
Yes, yes creaked Kraps. If it were I, I would call on you. Do him this last service.
Knuckles rapped the table in agreement.
Good, good, good clapped the Chair. Skyte's eyes dropped to his notes. Glass smiled and nodded, eyes gently sparkling but he was quaking behind the glass. A vote then, a vote then. Carried by a motion of eleven to one.
In his absence, as was decorum, Kratz was alined with the majority.