revised punishment

by Derek Waulet

The gavel struck the podium for the fourth strike. Loud chatter still erupted around the courtroom, however. Colorfully painted signs poked out in every direction. Men and women in navy blue jumpsuits and thick black vests pushed back against the crowds.

“Calm down, or you will be removed from my courtroom. I understand the buzz around the law passed on Tuesday and the gravity of this case. That is no excuse, however, for the inappropriate behavior being displayed today.”

Adrian glanced around the room. His hands were thick and sticky with sweat. His broad forehead glistened in the light of the courtroom. He shifted his butt on the wooden seat, which was his thirty-second ritual. She wouldn’t bring them, she promised. They would stay with their grandparents, and that would delay them from finding out. Delay them from having to look at their father's face before they would be removed from him forever.

The protesters who made it into the first few rows of seats were blocking his view. He looked harder; she would be here at least. She hadn’t talked to him since the day of the incident and had completely removed herself from his life and his children's lives. Red hair was what he was looking for, which always made it a bit easier to find her in crowds like this. He spotted her looking down; she was never that attracted to attention. He saw cameras flash on her, but she kept her face pointed down to the right and then to the left. And there they were, his children… his dear Alex and Sensha. God, was he happy to see their faces in real life for the first time in so long. But why did she bring them? If she had left them, it would delay the inevitable for at least a bit longer. Maybe she brought them just as punishment to him, for everything that he had put the family through.

“Members of the jury, have you reached a verdict?”

As the judge finished his question, it was as if someone pressed mute on the whole of the courtroom. Adrian could hear a truck backing up outside and what sounded like two homeless people fighting. Even the reporters put down their cameras and just waited for what seemed like an eternity as the representative prepared to respond.

“Yes, your honor, we have.” A few whispers broke out at this, but then the crowd quickly silenced again. Adrian’s fingers gripped the arms of the wooden chair hard, his knuckles turning white. He glanced back at Anna, sitting with the children he would probably never see again. Their eyes were on the man about to speak with a sense of desperation. Tears falling from his son's cheek and his daughter's head were clasped against the chest of his wife.

“Members of the Jury, on the Case of Adrian Rayu vs. The United States of America, what do you say?”

The time stretched again, like an accordion being extended out. The musician needed the full extension for one last long note to end the song. Adrian waited for this one last note to be cast and inspected the musician who was responsible. It was a short man with a bald spot in the middle of his head. He wore rounded spectacles and fidgeted at the stand. Adrian found it ironic to have his fate decided by such a funny-looking man of small stature. His own body isn't what it used to be, either. The skin had been drawn back to his bones, his facial structure clearly visible. The arms that used to be packed with muscle now could barely carry the food tray to his cell. The musician pushed the accordion back together, and the sound was terrifying.

“Your honor, the members of the jury find the defendant guilty of murder in the first degree.” The silence continued for a moment, so fast that Adrian thought he might have been imagining it. It was almost a quick moment of acceptance from the otherwise unruly crowd. But then, there it was. The humanitarians and socially sensitive people had come to the defense of Adrian, as they always had in the past few months. But it wasn’t really Adrian that they cared about.

His breath was short now, and the world seemed to turn into a hazy mess of shapes and sounds. He saw the judge nod and attempt to silence the crowd for the final time. He felt himself turn and find Anna in the crowd with his two creations on either side of her. He saw the horror in her eyes and the crooked shape of her mouth as a wet mess covered her whole face. He saw two college students shake the rails on the balcony above the courtroom. Their throats both flexed in a scream that had to burn one's ears if one's senses were fully intact. He felt his own stomach knot up tight, and the air in his throat ceased from coming in and out. His body refused to perform any of its natural subconscious actions until the sentence was read.

“Thank you, members of the jury. With this verdict being understood, an appropriate sentence shall be carried out. The state recently revised the notion of an appropriate sentence in cases of this magnitude. Adrian Rayu will go free after a full cleanse of his name is carried out. Mr. Rayu has displayed through his actions that his genes are tainted and unable to contribute to our society. As such, his line will cease from this day forward. Attendants, please carry out this man's sentence.”

Adrian turned once again to his family. Anna shoved through the crowd, carrying his daughter in one arm and her other hand tightly gripped around her son. She pushed to the end of a row, but the black suits were at either exit now, slowly moving towards Adrian’s family. Two black suits grabbed both his arms and dragged him towards the courtroom exit. The crowd was at its peak performance now, throwing things and shouting. Three more black suits broke through the back entrance, carrying large automatic weapons. Adrian knew they were only for intimidation, but he couldn’t stop looking at them as he was pushed through the door.

A dark hallway presented itself in front of him, as the door slammed shut, silence filled the air. Nothing but the breath of the two soldiers gripping his wrists. He knew the actions that had to be performed now, but was unsure of the methods, in either case. Red cavities surrounded his eyes, and the veins in his hands were evidence of dehydration and starvation his body had endured the last two months.

“Historic,” they said, and they kept on saying. “You will walk free, Adrian, you will walk free. The first time that someone has done what you’ve done will walk free in history.” Their voices and faces caused him far too much guilt already, and he wished they would vanish, but one of them quickly met his eyes.

“Alright, Adrian, they have the equipment for the procedure already here. It will be underway in just a few minutes. I’m here to make sure that they go forward with everything according to code. This is a historic day after all.”

“But how will my ki-” Adrian started, it was fruitless, but he needed to try.

“You know I can’t answer that, Adrian, don’t waste your breath. Just know that you’ll be walking out of here today.”

They walked another minute down the dark corridor before stopping in front of a large bronze door, where Adrian’s attorney took his arm.

“Alright, they’re going to take you into the operating room now. It should be quick and painless, so don’t worry about that. They’ve always got to overdo the anesthetics in cases like that. I’ll be right on the other side of the glass and will be waiting for you when you’re done.” He gave Adrian a quick pat on the shoulder and, with that, disappeared down the hall. The guards opened the doors and guided him into the operating room.

*****

As Adrian’s toes grazed the surface of the ground, a shock of reality was rapidly sent through his body. This wasn’t some mad experiment of the human psyche. Not a drug-induced endless dream caused by an overindulgence in a lesser-known variety of psychedelics. This was real life - when he got out of this bed, signed some sort of form, and walked through the doors, he would be out into the real world.

He pushed with his back two hands, and his feet hit the floor with a thump.

“Alright, take it a little slow now, Mr. Rayu. You may still be a little dizzy. I don’t want you to do any heavy lifting for the next 48 hours or so, and you should probably take a cab home.”

Adrian nodded lazily. Why did she have to treat him with so much respect? Society should punish a man who has done the things he's done. Punish him and then treat him, not push it off to the next generation. He waited for the nurse's tone to change and hoped for at least a little hostility to accompany her next few words.

Instead, she put one hand on his lower back and held his arm with her free hand. She helped him up and out of bed. He took a step, and she still hung onto him, carrying a warm smile as she did it. Adrian didn’t know how to react - he wanted to smile, thank her for what she was doing. Ask her about her day, about anything - but how could he, he was a killer after all. And not just the robbery gone wrong that got him in this position in the first place, but more than that, it was the life that was innocently taken from…

“Alright, Mr. Rayu, this is a limited recovery facility. You’re in a good position enough to leave now. If you need more help, you can do that through a private provider.” A large man wearing a military haircut and a black police vest spoke. He handed Adrian his civilian clothes in a neatly folded pile and told him to change in the corner.

Adrian changed slowly, careful not to overuse the parts of his body operated on in the surgery, but he couldn’t really feel any pain associated with it. Everything fit very loosely on his thin frame. He worked the belt through the loop of the khaki pants and tightened it as many levels as the belt allowed, but it still felt as though the trousers could fall to his ankles at any time. When he was finished, he returned the folded hospital gown to the black vested officer who was now holding a clipboard.

“Thanks. We’re going to take you around the back because there's a pretty big crowd out front. You shouldn’t worry about any violent protesters, though. We haven’t received any threats related to you. If you do have any issues, however, you can give me a call on this line.” He handed Adrian a business card with his name and details in bold lettering.

“Now, officer Sanchez and I will take you to the door,” He gestured to another officer, and they both walked him down the same dark hallway. They didn’t restrain him this time; everything had already been carried out, Adrian was sure of that. They knew that Adrian had no motive to resist them now.

“Good luck, Mr. Rayu,” The nurse said as they began their walk, poking her head out of the doorway. A genuine smile appeared on her face, and she gave a soft nod as he looked back. He knew exactly what she meant, and it was the first time he had heard it today.

He knew his body was still in a state of shock from the events that had occurred in the courtroom. Surely it would punish him later, put him in an immobile state, confined in a bed until starvation or an immune disorder slowly overtook him in the coming months. For now, his legs still operated as they should, and his eyes could still perceive the path in front of him. He saw the officers push open a set of doors, exposing them to a large security room. Then, through another, using a keycard that led to the outside world.

The mid-August sun seemed to be melting the pavement of the alley outside, but the officers guided him into the light anyway. He knew that once he took the first step out into that light, into reality, there would be nothing waiting for him. The punishment, the drastic half of the punishment, was effective in pushing away everyone that Adrian ever loved. He would surely never see Anna again, and he heard that a restraining order was already in the works to make sure that he would never go after her. His mother hadn’t called him in weeks, even though she said she still loved him; he knew it was a lie. And all because of those senators, those goddamn senators, smoking on fat cigars, preaching about God's will and making a decision based on who can pay the most.

Of course, it wasn’t just their fault. While there was a large number of people - especially young people - who resisted the legislation, there was also a large majority that thought this was the answer. They had seen the extreme rise in street crime, domestic violence, drug trafficking, and almost everything in the book. The alternative was suggested by some psychologists, saying that almost 80% of all crimes were committed by children of criminals. A simple solution to a simple problem, but what would be the aftermath of murdering - the tall officer shook Adrain’s hand.

“Good luck, like I said, call me if you receive any threats.” He spoke, and Adrian nodded. “Also, you probably already know this, but you should stay away from your ex-wife. That includes you not going to the funeral.” Adrian knew this was a possibility, but the reality of it still scared him. He wouldn’t even get a chance to say goodbye.

Adrian walked away from the officer, down Carson Street. He could still hear some protestors shouting in front of the courthouse. He glanced up at the paper products clock tower and read out four o'clock. A considerable amount of time had passed since the verdict was read at 11 am. He took a few shuffling footsteps to the north… perhaps he would pick up some dinner for tonight. No, no, that didn’t feel right. He turned around and started walking south. He would take the bus back home. That wouldn’t feel right either, considering there wouldn’t be anyone waiting for him back there. Well, maybe, Biscuit the cat, but Anna had surely taken him as well. Or, wait, did the new law stretch to include him as well? The sick thought almost made Adrian laugh a little until he noticed a newsstand.

He took a few more steps towards the wooden structure with a red canopy and an indian man with a soft smile behind the counter. On the right were a variety of different snacks and drinks. On the left hung the popular papers of the day.

“Premium Issue, sir,” The man behind the counter said. “The trial took place just this morning, and the papers were anxiously waiting to get this out.” He pointed to several rows of papers, all featuring Adrian’s face on the front. The top one read in bold:

“The Government's First Genetic Cleanse Carried Out on the Rayu Family”

He felt his hand begin to shake as he picked up the paper off the stand. He read down a little further:

“Adrian Rayu was found guilty of murder in the first degree this Friday morning. The sentence paid for this crime, as was decided by a new law passed just last week, is a full cleansing of his family name. In some cases, this is limited to castration if the defendant has no living descendants. In Adrian’s case, however, he has two living children. They were both taken to a-,” He held out his hand; he needed to steady himself with something.

The clerk tried to reach out to support him, but it was too late. Adrian’s hand extended, and his body gave out beneath him. He felt a pain ride up his tailbone as he made contact with the ground, but kept reading:

“- government facility this Friday afternoon. They were both given a lethal dose of potassium chloride. The boy, Alexander Rayu, died at 1:23 pm, and the girl, Sensha Rayu, died at 1:35 pm. A spokesperson for the senator who brought about the legislation, Jason Paul, has said that they are deeply saddened by the loss of those children. That being the case, however, they are proud of the historic legislation being put into action.”

Adrian felt his fist balling up, as if that was any use.

“With the power of a full cleanse, we can identify individuals that are providing harmful, infected genes to our society and eliminate them from the equation. The goal is to ultimately have a society where only the healthy and normal genes are allowed to exist and make humanity great.”

Adrian glanced down at his hands, his stomach, his legs. He was the reason, after all. The reason his children were robbed from him, from Anna. They were carrying on his genes and had to be punished for it. If this were such a perfect equation, however, why did they let the criminals walk free? As he thought it, he knew that the punishment he would be enduring would be far worse. The constant flash of his children’s faces. The look on Anna when she heard the verdict being read, how those black suits rushed down the aisles to capture them. He felt himself float up and off the sidewalk.

His mother was also enough there to keep him occupied for a lifetime. The shock and horror when he first called her to tell her that he’d been taken into custody. The thought of those questions she had to keep asking: “What have you done? How could you do this to your children?” And those questions were pressed long before the legislation had even been passed. His feet were moving beneath his feet towards the overpass without any conscious control over them.

And then, of course, there was his own father. The drunken man with a habit of picking on Adrian and his mother. Not that he meant it, he always used to say, he was just “having a bit of fun.” They did finally turn him in, after enduring years of agony. If it were the present day, his father's actions would have put him in a similar situation as Adrian is in now. The ironic thing was that Adrian would have been dead now. The victim would have been part of the sentence carried out, and his father would instead walk free. He propped himself up on the railing.

Maybe it was a perfect plan. They knew that being responsible for the executions of his children would cause Adrian enough guilt that he had to toss his own body over the side of the overpass. They knew that he would kill himself eventually, and they wouldn’t have to waste precious government resources on doing that himself. He looked down at the cars whizzing past on the interstate below. He waited just a minute for a large truck he could see in the distance. One last thing he could do for the world was not mess up the day for some businessman rushing home to see his family after a long week or some mother going to take her daughter out for coffee. He saw the semi take over the right lane, and Adrian closed his eyes. He took one step out over the railing. Then a quick drop, and then nothing.

Photo of Derek Waulet

BIO: Derek Wautlet is a software developer by day and a speculative fiction writer by night. He primarily writes horror and science fiction short stories, but he has been working on transitioning to longer-form works. He loves reading tales by authors like Dean Koontz and Stephen King, which contain content that is all around unexpected. Outside of writing fiction, he enjoys hiking and kayaking whenever the weather in his native Wisconsin allows it.