"Sentenced"
John Doe Green coiled himself in anticipation of the verdict. He did so only on the inside, since outward manifestation of his frustration might be construed as threatening. Besides, his edges were shackled and he was as taut as a fence post, so Green physically couldn’t coil even if he’d wanted to.
The door to the judge’s chamber opened and in came the “honorable” I-256. Judges were so designated because names supposedly brought them down to the level of the courts they were by the nature of their job to remain above. At the beginning of the trial, John Doe had thought the number a bit cold for the gentle elegance and professional demeanor associated with Infrareds, but the vehemence with which the judge had overruled every objection Green’s lawyer raised made the moniker seem to fit.
“All rise,” said the bailiff, a dark Blue. Every beam and aura in the room save for Green came to attention, only to relax when the supreme jurist took his seat. It was the highest court in the world, which meant it was an honor to be allowed to attend. It also meant Green could not appeal the decision.
I-256 settled himself and faced the court. “Those of us in the justice community are tasked with arriving at the truth and handing down decisions based on the facts as we find them. We consider every case with care, but in circumstances like these we pay extra special attention to every detail.
“John Doe Green has been accused of numerous high crimes, including the blinding of a head of state that to led to said official’s murder. Mr. Green would have us believe that he recollects none of this, a fact that in itself provides no proof of innocence. Further, all physical characteristics that would lead to the identification of the accused have been removed. This can only be deliberate, as, this court believes, is the case with Mr. Green’s purported amnesia.”
Green’s lawyer sighed heavily but with no note of surprise. He’d known the entire time that Green was being railroaded, but he’d apparently held out some ray of hope. Maybe he should have pushed harder for a jury, though Green knew that somehow it had never really been an option. It was true he had no memory of who he was, but some things were matters of logic and transcended specific knowledge.
“It is the finding of this court that John Doe Green is guilty of all charges.” Murmurs ran through the courtroom at the judge’s proclamation. “Further,” I-256 said in a louder voice that quieted the crowd, “said accused is to be held for the remainder of his natural life in a maximum-security facility in an undisclosed location. Let him be sent there presently.”
The judge stood and exited the room. Two armed guards led Green past the bailiff, who looked the new convict in the eyes before glancing away. At least he’d given him that much. It wasn’t a lot to begin two decades in confinement, but it was something.
Green was taken down numerous corridors to a room with a giant spotlight that was embedded in the wall and aimed at an up-angled mirror that stood in the center of the floor. One guard turned the light on, sending a beam of generated light that bounced off the mirror and hit the ceiling. The heat that came from the lamp infused Green with energy like he’d only felt on the warmest of summer days or at high noon in the desert. Being reflective in nature, he needed generated light not only to be seen but also for fuel. Either they were being extra nice before shipping him off to prison, or the facility was far enough away that Green needed the extra power to get there. He figured it wasn’t the former.
The guards shoved him into the light path, and he felt a push toward the mirror; only his restraints kept him in place. One of them pressed a button on the wall, and a hole the width of the room opened in the ceiling. The other guard clicked a button on a remote he held, releasing the restraints, and just like that John Doe bounced off the mirror and was rushing skyward at the speed of light.
A mile above the court building, a floating mirror redirected him. His new trajectory was nearly horizontal, and he was now on his way north. Green wasn’t sure how he knew the direction, but of it he was certain.
A hundred miles beyond the sky mirror, another one angled him slightly downward. Green sensed he was not headed for the ground, and he realized his trajectory needed adjustment due to the curvature of the Earth; no downward adjustment and he’d fly into the atmosphere only to come down who knew where. In addition to the new mirror, a powerful light provided him a boost of power. Just how far was he going, anyway?
Green went through mirror after mirror, and before he had time to further reflect on his situation he was over the Arctic. The massive amount of pure White light that glinted off the snow struck him with awe, which in turn confused him. He possessed only four months of memories – beginning shortly after the crimes for which he’d been convicted – but he had a distinct feeling he’d always been a loner, or at least someone who valued his autonomy.
So why did the White light fill him with wonder? White was the fusion of seven different colors, each sacrificing its individual identity for a unified existence. Green did not want other colors taking him over, and he couldn’t imagine a Red or Indigo wanting to be tinged. Yet White light not only existed but permeated nearly every landscape he’d seen, none more so than the ground Green currently flew over. How could so many beings want to join? A thought struck Green. Perhaps White was a natural state that needed to be escaped from. Maybe every non-White color he’d ever seen had figured out how to break free from the bondage. Green smiled inside; that included him.
Pretty soon the lights disappeared and the mirrors began to redirect him down at greater angles. He slowed naturally, and Green figured he was approaching the prison, a supposition confirmed when he went straight down and entered the snowy ground through a hole roughly the size of the one he’d left the courthouse through. Instead of landing in a room, however, he went further and further into the Earth down a mirrored tube. He finally did emerge into a space, but it was shrouded in darkness. New restraints clamped down on him and held him even tighter than the first ones had.
He heard snickers, and then a spotlight illuminated the room. Three guards stood before him. They were massive, they were Ultraviolet, and they didn’t look nice.
“Welcome to hell,” said the one in the middle. John Doe Green had no doubt that hell was exactly where he had landed.
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