AGAINST THE MACHINE
Prologue: The Courtroom by Riley Jericho rileyjericho@yahoo.com
"Caleb Alexander Montgomery, you have been found guilty of two charges brought against you. Firstly, on the charge of CyberCrime, you have been found guilty of illegally hacking into three separate military and government computer mainframes. Secondly, you are charged with withholding from the authorities the encryption passwords to your own computer's secure data area. This also is a CyberCrime. Finally on the third count of holding indecent and illegal images of a homosexual nature on your computer, there is not enough evidence to convict you."
Stoically Cal Montgomery tried to look straight ahead but couldn't stop himself taking a glance to the table where his father was seated. His father was staring down at some unseen spot in front of him, though his stepmother, Melissa, caught his eye and glared at him with undisguised disgust.
The nub of it was -- he was actually guilty of all three charges.
At the tender age of 14, Caleb Montgomery, son of millionaire businessman, philanthropist and recently turned politician, Alex Montgomery, was an accomplished computer hacker. But he had hacked several mainframes too deep into government institutions -- for no other reason that he wanted to prove to himself that he could -- and had come under the scrutiny of the authorities cyberwarfare team. He was good, but not quite good enough to evade them behind layers of hidden IP's and false trails and they swooped. He barely had time to lock down the encryption of his secure hard drive archive before they got into his room.
He was detained whilst they tried to unlock the layers and get at whatever data he had lifted. Naturally, despite his lawyer's warning to the contrary, he refused to divulge his encryption codes. Not that he'd stolen any government data. No, he was more concerned about the many pics of young men -- many without any clothes on -- that they might find there. And in a society where such an interest would be deemed EXTREMELY inappropriate -- maybe more so than the other charges against him -- he kept his mouth shut.
But, whilst the government technicians couldn't break open his full archive, they had picked up some images from his cache, even though he thought it had been sufficiently washed and sanitized. Of the 50 or so images they retrieved, most were of guys at the beach; teenagers for the most part and wearing some form of swimwear. Only 5 were fully naked and even then you only saw their bums.
Unfortunately there were another 17 images that they retrieved that were close-up's of guys penises. However, because it was impossible to tell the age, and there were no specific images of illegal man/man sex, his lawyer had argued that they were merely incidental to the case against him. Even so, it wouldn't have helped for them to find the even larger image-store of guys privates that were secreted away on his encrypted drive!
He turned his attention back to the Judge who was finishing the summing up. Courts like these didn't resort to trial by jury, but rather a 3 or 5 person judges panel decided your fate. He'd been honoured with the full five, and they were delivering their verdict at last.
In many ways he was glad it was nearly over now and he could go back home and hide from the humiliation he'd heaped on himself and his father when those bloody pictures were found. It was actually quite a surprise to him to be faced with such a huge number of pictures - and he knew there were many more that they hadn't been able to access. They were mostly of boys about his own age and he'd begun collecting viewing them and then downloading them some time ago, but never really facing up to the question why.
And now everyone knew what he looked at on the HyperNet!
Shit -- why hadn't he been more careful with those? He knew why he had something of a preoccupation with guy's dicks, but to start saving mages of young guys in their speedos? Even without their speedos! OK, they looked nice, but that didn't mean he was gay, and fuck anyone who tried to say that!
Bastards.
He'd been languishing in a cell for over a week whilst his father worked at pulling all kinds of strings to get him released. But whatever they'd tried to do, his father and their lawyer hadn't been able to keep the case -- and him - out of the Courtroom. As a result he'd been here in this room for two full days whilst they'd made him sit through all this shit, with all his dirty laundry hanging out for everyone to see. He glanced over at the hoards of media correspondents that had flocked around like ravenous piranhas. His father hadn't let him see the news reports, but he knew they all wanted to see the spoilt little rich kid get fucked.
He didn't care anymore. He just wanted to go home.
He shifted uncomfortably in the security chair that held him. He'd been cooped up in it all day, wearing nothing but the compulsory orange prisoner overalls that were baggy and complete crap. They'd only let him out of the chair at lunchtime for a quick piss and that was it.
The chair was one of the more modern enhancements of the current day Courtroom. It had become the equivalent of the prisoner's dock and it controlled those who were there at the pleasure of the court. His legs and arms were restrained to keep him passive and additionally, the chair was capable of delivering neural stimulants or depressives at the press of a button. If a prisoner got out of hand in any way, they were just knocked out and the session continued without them.
God, he needed to pee so bad. Five more minutes and he would be out of here. Hopefully his father had remembered to bring some proper clothing. He was NOT going home wearing this crap!
The lawyer said they had pulled enough strings that it should be fairly straightforward. First offence. No previous. He should get away with a smack on the hand and an extremely hefty fine. So what? His father had money. Plenty of it.
He shook his head slightly. It wasn't really the money that bugged him. He didn't really see much of his dad these days, but he still hated that he had let him down.
He was itching to get out of there and the crowd in the public galleries were getting restless too, as the panel of 5 judges spent some more time conferring. An aide handed them several pieces of paper that they referred to as they deliberated.
Come on -- get it over with!
Over several minutes the noise in the courtroom grew and the perception of justice emanating from the public gallery (which was packed) were made clear when one voice called out, "Come on -- get him dicked-up to the Machine. That'll sort him out!"
There was a wave of laughter. It was crude, but everyone knew what that meant. He swallowed and tried to ignore them as laughter and excitement burst out around him.
Amongst the gathered journalists, one scribbled a spoof headline on a piece of paper and passed it to a colleague: Montgomery Heir finally Dicked-Up to the Machine. With a strapline: He's gonna get it Cumming! They both grinned at the crude innuendo, though both knew that neither of their news groups would care to use such a title.
Then the lead Judge crashed his gravel (one of the more traditional hangovers of Courtroom heritage) onto the desk in front of him.
"SILENCE in this Courtroom, or you will be removed!"
"Caleb Montgomery, you have been charged, tried and found guilty on two accounts of CyberCrime by this Court." He paused, waited a few moments and then continued. "However, on these charges, we take into account that you are young and these are your first offences and are of a mind to show some leniency."
Caleb realised he had been holding his breath, but now let it out slowly in relief. It was going to be OK. The public gallery muttered, worried that they had been cheated. Caleb looked to his father and smiled hopefully, wondering when they would release him from the damn chair. But suddenly, it wasn't as `over' as he'd hoped.
"On the other hand," the Judge continued, "on a personal level, we are extremely concerned for your well-being and healthy character development and the presence of inappropriate sexually-orientated images on your personal computers must be firmly addressed for your own good. We have seen too many good young men lose their way in life because those who saw the warning signs did not act. Whilst there is not enough evidence at our disposal to bring a formal charge, nonetheless there is enough evidence of an unhealthy interest in homoerotic sexuality to give us grave concerns." He droned on as if he were a school teacher berating a wayward child, but Caleb found his breath stopping again as he tried to take in what the man was saying. The public gallery had also livened up a bit, smelling potential bloodletting. The lead Judge continued.
"Taking these things into consideration and, in circumstances like this, we, the Judiciary Panel are empowered to act on that evidence if we are able to reach a majority agreement."
Then the hammer fell.
"So this judiciary panel, by a majority decision of 3 to 2, will take into account both the Cyber Crime charges and our concern for your sexual wellbeing and are ordering that you be transferred from here to the Centre for Emotional Wholeness to receive the help that you need."
The shock was enormous. If Caleb could have jumped up from his restraining security chair and shouted, he would have. As it was, his father had jumped up and started shouting at their lawyer and then the Judges. Had he heard it right? They were sending him to the Centre? Surely he didn't mean that...?
Everyone was shouting. The public gallery had become a cheering mob; `Dick him up', many voices shouted - mainly made up of people who only wanted to see him taken down because his father was famous and popular. It was mayhem. Maybe because the Judges enjoyed releasing a well-received decision, they just let it ride until the lead Judge gave the signal that Caleb should be taken down to begin his sentence.
His world started to get buzzy and he wondered if he was about to faint, but then realised that the security chair mechanism must have somehow initiated the hypo-injection of a neural sedative into him. The last thing he saw before it all turned black was a nasty smile on his stepmother's face and a small movement of her hand as she surreptitiously waved a final goodbye.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------- AGAINST THE MACHINE is a story by Riley Jericho rileyjericho@yahoo.com