The Broken Universe (35 page)

“Jason Grayborn,” John said.

“I’m sorry, master, but I don’t know who that is.”

“I’m not your master,” John said.

“I’m sorry to offend,” she said, looking down at the floor.

“Jason Grayborn gave you alcohol at the dance last Friday. Do you remember?”

Amalona shrugged.

“You two danced. Then he led you to the barracks where you and he had sex.”

Amalona blushed. “I don’t think that happened.”

“People saw you together. Jason claims you two had sex.”

“Why would he say that?”

She seemed to honestly not remember what had happened between her and Jason Grayborn.

“Because it happened. Because he plied you with alcohol and then raped you.”

Amalona looked at him in horror. A look of revulsion passed over her face, followed by a rictus of pain. She groaned and flopped from the chair. She began to keen, curled in a ball on the floor. John tried to lift her back up but she recoiled from his touch.

The door opened and Englavira appeared. She had walked Amalona over from her dormitory.

“What did you do?”

John shook his head. “I tried to get her to remember.”

“Fool.”

“I’m sorry,” John said. He stood up while Englavira scurried to lift Amalona to the chair. “But I need her statement.”

“We all know what happened,” she said coldly.

“We know what probably happened,” John said. “A man’s life is at stake.”

“It is no life,” Englavira said sadly.

“Please take her back to the dormitory.” As Englavira helped the weak and befuddled Amalona away, John motioned to Devon.

“That was quick,” Devon said.

“She doesn’t remember anything,” John said. “I can’t … hurt her more.”

“Now what?” John looked at the fleshy man dressed in khaki pants and sweater, such an odd contrast to the paranoid man shivering next to a weak fire in Universe 7538. They were doing something good here, weren’t they? Would he and his family have died this winter in 7538 if Casey hadn’t convinced him? Had it been Casey or had it been Jane, his wife, who convinced him?

John’s thoughts turned back to Grayborn’s case. Who would convince Grayborn?

“Devon, get me Cecil Inkster.”

“Inkster? You got it.”

John stood at the window, leaning against the rough wood frame. Melissa was right. This was all his doing. He should have expected something like this to happen. When a thousand near strangers come and live together, people would clash. He had just willy-nilly brought the immigrants together and now they were having problems. And no little problems. Life-and-death problems.

“Maybe John Prime is the better man for this,” John said to himself.

He saw Devon dash back toward the community building. Cecil Inkster walked slowly, reluctantly behind. He looked like a man who was in over his head and with no easy way out. What had Grayborn said to him after the first interview? John wondered. The roommate would know the history of Grayborn. He’d know all the foibles. But he was in awe of Grayborn, that was clear.

John waited for Devon’s knock, wondering what he could hope to get from Cecil.

“Come in,” he called.

Cecil entered, ill at ease.

“Yeah?” he said. Then more boldly, “What do you want? Shouldn’t Jason be here?”

“Why? Does he speak for you?”

Cecil flushed.

“So, you know Jason better than anyone, right?”

“I guess.”

“Then you know the answer to this question.”

“What?”

“How many women has he done this to?”

The color ran away from his face.

“I … I … don’t know. He … hasn’t ever.”

“Really? This is the first time?”

Cecil looked out the window. He was sweating, even in the cool air of the mayor’s office. He swallowed.

“He’s never raped anyone…” Cecil said. Cecil almost added “before” but he held back.

“Never in college with all the women he dated. All those women he hated. This can’t have been the first.”

“There were a lot of women,” Cecil said. “It was all consensual!”

“No bruises, no crying, no begging for him to stop? No alcohol or rohypnol?”

“Never!”

“No hands around the throat? No forced sodomy?”

“No!”

“Did you watch?”

“No!”

“Did you help!”

“Shut up!”

“Did you?”

“Shut the hell up!” Cecil screamed. His face was red. He wheezed, with hunched shoulders.

John fell silent and watched Cecil. He was as much a sociopath as Grayborn, but Cecil was a victim as well.

There was a knock on the door.

“Come in,” John said into the ringing silence.

Grace stood there, a folder in her hand.

“I have some research for the case,” she said, glancing at Cecil.

“Research?”

“Yeah, you’ll want to read this right now.” She handed him the folder and then shut the door behind her as she left.

John took the folder, sat behind the desk, and opened it. He knew immediately what it was, a Pinball Wizards, Transdimensional, research report. Grace had sent a request to every settled universe and requested a detailed examination of Jason Grayborn’s history in each. Inside the legal-sized envelope were ten separate manila folders.

The first, labeled Quayle-7510, had a single piece of paper that read,
Subject does not exist. No records of parents.
The second, labeled Low-7322, read,
Subject exists and lives in New York City. No police record.
The third was thicker. In Universe 7462—Universe Pinball, so named because it was the only universe they’d found with the traditional pinball game John remembered from 7533—Jason Grayborn had been arrested for sexual assault and released. No charges were filed. The woman’s name was not listed.

In Universe 7625, Jason Grayborn had spent two years on probation for sexual assault. The woman’s name was listed as Yolanda Kishtan. He raped the same woman in Ten and spent four years in jail. It happened during his college years, time when Cecil Inkster would have been present.

“What happened to Yolanda Kishtan?” John asked quietly.

Cecil’s body jerked as if he were on marionette strings.

“What? Who?”

“Did you help Grayborn?”

“I … I … thought this was about Amalona!”

“How many times has Grayborn done this? How many times have you helped?”

“I never helped! I really liked Yolanda. I’m the one who asked her over, but he’s the one who … who … made love to her after I fell asleep.”

“‘Made love’?”

“That’s what he said. That’s what he said. I didn’t know.”

“How many others?”

“I don’t know.”

“How many do you know about?”

“I…” Cecil dropped his face into his palms. He was bawling; spittle and tears dripped on the floor.

“You let that happen to Yolanda, a girl you liked and that he hurt. How could you do that?”

“I was asleep.”

“But you know he did it.”

“Yes! I know he hurt her. I know he hurt Yolanda. She cursed me when I visited her in the hospital. I didn’t do it. He did.” Cecil looked up. “I didn’t know he was going to do that to Amalona. I swear. I swear I didn’t know he was going to do anything to her.”

“But you knew what he was capable of?”

Cecil Inkster nodded sadly. “I knew.”

“What did he do to Amalona?”

Cecil shook his head.

John said, “You were there, weren’t you?”

Cecil nodded again.

“What did he do?”

“We left the dance with a bottle of booze,” Cecil said softly. “They started kissing, but she wasn’t into it. She pushed him away. He kept kissing her. Then he lifted up her shirt and…”

“You watched,” John said flatly.

“Yes,” Cecil whispered. “He lets me.”

John stared at him. Cecil stared at his hands.

“Did she tell him to stop?”

“Yes.”

“Did she try to fight him off?”

“Yes, but…”

“What?”

“That’s what he likes.”

John exhaled.

“Stay here, Cecil. Don’t leave this room.”

John wrote a note on a piece of paper, folded the paper, and placed it in an envelope. He opened the door to Devon and said, “This needs to go to Home Office right away, and then find me John Superprime.”

“You got it.”

John shut the door to the office, leaving Cecil inside.

*   *   *

Grace Home came first, as he waited for the others to arrive in Melissa’s office.

“He confessed?”

“No,” John said. “But Inkster admitted to witnessing it.”

“Then it’s open and shut.”

“I know!” John said sharply. “It’s just that…”

“It’s not murder, John,” Grace said. “It’s a state execution.” Grace’s calmness horrified him. She had already accepted Grayborn’s death as inevitable.

“I accept that he must die,” John said. “He’s guilty. It’s how we ascertained his death that worries me.”

“Cecil Inkster witnessed it.”

“But what made Inkster admit that?” John said. “Evidence from another universe.”

“It’s still Grayborn,” Grace said. “He’s still guilty of those crimes.”

“Then I’m guilty too,” John said.

“What? Oh,” Grace said. “Prime.”

“Yes, if we hold a person guilty of any crimes his or her doppelgangers commit, then I committed every crime Prime did. I am no better than he.”

Grace nodded and looked away. “No.”

“What do you mean?”

“You aren’t Prime,” she said simply.

“But we’re on the slippery slope—”

“No,” Grace said. “Inkster witnessed the rape of Amalona. Case closed. It doesn’t matter how we obtained the leverage to make Inkster implicate Grayborn. The fact is, he did it. This Grayson is guilty. There is no doubt. You can’t be held accountable for anything Prime has done, nor can Grayborn in any other universe be held accountable for Amalona’s rape.”

“By the argument, Prime’s crimes could be used to implicate me in another crime, simply because it raises a doubt of my innocence.”

“But if you weren’t guilty, there’d be no problem,” Grace said. “John, Inkster was there. He saw it. He says Grayborn did it.”

John nodded. “He’s guilty. I know it.”

“Then we do what has to be done.”

*   *   *

Casey came next.

“Come on,” she said, staring at him behind Melissa’s desk. “Let’s walk.”

She led him to the northeast along the river.

“How many times have we crossed this river to get somewhere downtown?” Casey said. “And here there’s no bridges, no roads, no university. It’s amazing, really.”

“Yeah.” This was a small downtown in nine universes out of ten. But what they saw here was as it had been thirty thousand years before man.

There was a path of sorts, a game trail widened by the colonists who followed the river. Casey kept hold of his hand as they walked.

“Everyone knows what’s going to happen,” she said. “Everyone here and in every colonized universe.”

“I figured when I sent the note, everyone would know pretty fast.”

They flushed a quail that chirped at them as it ran into the brush.

After watching it disappear, Casey said, “We think you shouldn’t do this thing.”

“Grace convinced me he’s guilty. I—”

“No, it’s not about the guilt,” Casey said. “It’s about the execution. We don’t want you to do it.”

“‘We’?” he asked.

“Some of the Caseys. Casey Low, Casey Pinball, Casey Case.”

“Casey Prime?”

Casey shrugged.

“He’s hurt a lot of women. And he will again,” John said. “It’s our duty to put a stop to this.”

“Really? Our duty, and that means your duty? Who made you king?” Casey said. “All you did was find a device. All you did was be in the wrong spot at the wrong time. It’s not
your
duty at all.”

“When we decided to bring those colonists here, we took on this responsibility,” John said. “Maybe not explicitly, but it was there. Society demands we do this.”

“Exile him,” Casey said simply. “Send him to 1000 or 2000 or 3000. Someplace far away.”

“He’ll hurt someone else.”

“So?”

“You can’t be callous to that! He’ll rape again.”

“No, I’m sympathetic,” Casey said. “But you’re my concern. This path—where you are arbitrator and executioner—I don’t want it for you.”

John nodded. “I can’t ask someone else to do it.”

“If you won’t exile him, have Prime do it.”

John swallowed. Prime would do it. Prime would pull the trigger.

“No, I can’t do that.”

Casey turned and faced him. “I’m begging you, John, not to do this.”

John looked into her eyes. He’d told himself that he’d do anything for her. Yet, Jason Grayborn was a vile human being that had to be put down. He’d made the decision.

“They’ll be here soon,” he said. “I need to go back.”

He turned to go, but Casey didn’t follow.

*   *   *

John waited until all of them arrived. Ten John Rayburns stood on the hill across the river, with Jason Grayborn standing in the middle of them, shackled at his wrists and ankles. They’d used the one boat to cross the river. John had wanted their destination to be within a short walk, but not easily accessible. Only John carried a gun.

On the far side of the river, near the boat dock of the settlement, a group of settlers stood and watched silently. It had not taken long for the news to spread. Among them, he spotted Casey Home standing next to Grace Home.

“Let’s go,” John said.

He led the way. John Superprime took Grayborn’s shoulder and guided him forward.

“I didn’t do anything!” he cried as he took a step. “It’s her word against mine! You can’t do this!”

“Shut up, Grayborn,” John Superprime said. “Or we gag you.”

“There are rules! You can’t punish me like this!”

Superprime punched him in the gut and Grayborn doubled over. He drew back to punch him again, but John stopped him.

“Don’t. Let him whine his last minutes away if he wants to,” John said.

Grayborn stood erect slowly. He didn’t try to speak again as they set off toward the copse of trees.

No one else spoke as they walked slowly to the line of trees, limited by the short gait of Grayborn’s shackled legs. Once, he fell, stumbling in a gopher hole. He grunted, but none of the Johns stepped forward to help him up. Gritting his teeth, he stood and the group continued on.