2: Tribunal

"Mr. Eldridge, you have been admitted into the reclamation system under involuntary circumstances; how do you plead your willful involvement in the contraction of the disease currently know as the Soul Stigma?"

"Unwilling," Eldridge responded. His voice remained low and dry, adding to the overall fatigued appearance his stance suggested. His shoulders slumped as he stood, hands crossed in front of him, and head lifted just enough to bring the judge's platform into view. The judge was a heavyset man, with a thickness of limbs bordering on obesity and bellied only by the fading tan showing on what little of his skin was outside his robes. He seemed to Eldridge to be too young for his station and yet too old for its employment; despite his un-aged features the judge seemed tired and distracted, as though he was part of an ancient and unalterable routine.

The judge's eyes only briefly lifted from his stand to the two figures before him; lone members of an empty courtroom for which the proceedings required no witnesses and no audience. Other than the three, the only other member of the chamber was a Clockwork Scribe, slowly feeding strips of paper into its innards with each spoken word. "Then you claim to have had no knowledge of your infection?" the judge continued, "to have lived for most if not your entire life in this condition, but without realizing what it was you carried?"

"At first, there was simply no realization," Eldridge responded slowly, "but even when realization began to settle I did not allow myself to believe it. So many of the symptoms seemed... unreal, and the conclusion was so unthinkable I could not accept it."

"If I may interject," Advocate Kingston began, shifting through her papers with nervousness that bordered on frantic motions. "We have here for your records: Soulseek Blackwood's report of conclusion, stating that Mr. Eldridge was placed in a state of denial by the Stigma as a natural defense mechanism, and that it is not uncommon for patients to develop denial as a self-directed effort to prevent themselves from spreading the disease or following its inclinations..."

"I know the mechanisms," the judge sighed, reaching over the stand as Kingston came forward to lift the document to him. "My concern is only with their validity in this particular occurrence..." He removed his spectacles momentarily to rub his eyes with a thumb and forefinger, before replacing them to the bridge of his nose. "Let it be recorded that this document, Report of Conclusion by one... Evelyn Blackwood, shall be permanently affixed to the file proceedings of one Thomas Eldridge." He pushed the bridge of his spectacles farther up his nose as he began to leaf through the pages of the report.

Eldridge pulled his shoulders back for a moment, stretching them as he shifted his head from one side to the other to loosen his neck. Curiously he noted that the Clockwork Scribe was still drawing paper into its gears, and wondered if it was attempting to catch up from the judge's wording or simply recording that the judge was mumbling as he read the report. Or, perhaps, it was capable of discerning what the judge was saying to himself, and making note of each utterance.

"Mr. Eldridge," Eldridge's head snapped forward again as he was addressed. "Do you affirm that your infection was not by your own choice or intent, and that you have not accepted it of that same choice?"

His jaw tightened as he nodded slowly. "I do so affirm."

The judge nodded back, marking the response behind his stand even as the scribe redundantly recorded it. "There is always a choice in these matters, Mr. Eldridge. But as you have not accepted your condition, the world is such that your choice is yet to be made. Let it be recorded that the Tribunal hereby respectfully requests that one Thomas Eldridge be confined to a proper cleansing and rehabilitation facility, until such time as he is able to reenter society free of any returnable presence of the disease known as Soul Stigma. Mr. Eldridge, do you consent to treatment for your condition?"

Eldridge lowered his eyes to the floor, swallowing hard. 'Protect... trust... hope... persevere,' he reminded himself. 'What does that even mean? What am I protecting? Why am I doing this?' He told himself that it was the Stigma that made accepting treatment feel so undeniably wrong, that it was a lie he could fight against, must fight against. But he had told himself those same words before, and each time he was forced to realize that although the new thoughts were indeed the result of the Stigma, it was his own mind that decided they were right. The Stigma was not IN is mind, it was outside it, and it in no way had ever changed when actions felt right or wrong. 'All this weight on one mind,' he thought to himself. 'I shall be old before my time.' He blinked then, a faint smile creeping onto his face for the first time since he entered the room. 'No... No, I won't have time for that, will I?'

"Mr. Eldridge?" Advocate Kingston elbowed him. "You have been asked a question."

Eldridge lifted his chin once more, setting his jaw tight for a moment as he met the judge's gaze. "I do not consent."

The judge's eyebrows rose, prompting him to lean forward of his slouch and show his first signs of wakefulness. "Mr. Eldridge, you are aware that if you do not consent to treatment you will be... placed in immediate and permanent quarantine?"

He lowered his eyes back to the table between his location and the judge's stand. "I am very much aware," he said quietly.

Kingston rose to her feet again, speaking before she was fully standing and so quickly that her words nearly lost their borders. "Sir, the Report of Conclusion clearly shows that Mr. Eldridge is in an unstable condition, and therefore quite incapable of forming such a decision of his own free will and desire..."

"The 'condition' you refer to is the result of a lifetime of self-hatred fed to me by my own society," He shot at the advocate. "I refuse to have truths ripped from my very soul in order to satisfy the Tribunal's opinion of what is truth!"

"And you are aware, then, that these so-called 'truths' you reference are repeatedly disproved by the highest professionals of their applicable field?" The judge asked, leaning his chin on one hand with the elbow resting against the front of his stand.

"And you, sir, are aware that these so-called 'experts' provide nothing more than poor attempts at disproving undeniable facts, using whatever misdirection the Consociate Combine chooses to force down the throat of the artisan community." It was not a question, as had been laced into the judge's tone.

"Sir, clearly Mr. Eldridge is unable to speak from his own mind, but rather is merely expressing the poison put there by a serious disease, a disease we must treat as a matter of decency..."

"There is NO disease!" Eldridge shouted. He held Kingston in a sharp glare, shoulders rising and falling with heavy breaths as he gradually allowed himself to calm. She winced under his gaze for a moment, opening her mouth to speak but unable to form words. "Sir, it is my own mind that speaks before this Tribunal and not the Stigma, although I am in agreement with it."

There was a short pause before the judge spoke again, during which he simply regarded Eldridge with risen eyebrows, mixing sudden interest with surprise. "Very well, then," he spoke finally. "Let it be recorded that one Mr. Thomas Eldridge has... 'Respectfully' declined treatment for his infection by the disease known as Soul Stigma, and will be placed under immediate, and indeed permanent quarantine, that his condition may not be spread to those of his environment." With a swift strike of the gavel against the stand and an utterance of the words, "Proceedings concluded," he stood and began to gather the records before him.

"Eldridge, you fool," Advocate Kingston hissed.

Eldridge offered her only a stern sideways glance, avoiding prolonged eye contact in order to dull the chances that she would read the building adrenaline in his blood. Instead he stared forward at the stiffly retreating robed figure returning to the judge's chamber, taking a slow and measured breath. "As though you'd be in the least concerned if it weren't for the blemish on your record."

She scowled, narrowing her eyes at him. "My concern is with your wellbeing. Medical proceedings are irrelevant to an advocate's record."

"If they were irrelevant, they wouldn't be recorded," Eldridge sighed heavily.

She shook her head, features deepening beneath a frustrated frown. "Do you even know what this 'quarantine' entails?"

He snorted once, shifting his weight uncomfortably from side to side. "Do you?"

Kingston regarded him with frustration; he knew very well that she couldn't answer.