The adjudicative system today was a lot different than it was when Hokusai
    was growing up. Instead of a single jury, deliberations were done with two
    separate arbitration panels, of five people. On each panel, three were
    regular people who served as arbiters, while two were educated arbitrators.
    There was still a judge—though, the position was now called adjudicator, to
    align with an a-word motif—but it was their responsibility to manage and
    mediate the court, rather than make summary judgments, punish the
    half-guilty, be corrupt, and stand above the law. The court system on Varkas
    Reflex was quite new, and while societies on the other colony planets
    generally stuck with the systems created on Earth after millennia of
    development, the Varkans decided to throw most of that out the window.
    Theirs was not an unfair process, but it wasn’t formal either, and it wasn’t
    orderly, nor predictable.
  
  
    The good news was that Loa and Pribadium were both deemed innocent for the
    potential crime of erasing the episodic memories of the dimensional gravity
    scientists. The bad news was that Hokusai was not. She was sitting in the
    courtroom now, which was usually used for zero-g darts. One of the eight
    alleged victims was responsible for coming up with new forms of
    gravitational recreation, so this was her spot. Of course, she didn’t
    remember doing any of that, which was why they were all here now.
  
  
    Gangsta Dazzlemist was playing the part of adjudicator, Katica Petrić was
    acting as advocate for the defense, and the investigator from before was the
    adhering attorney. Two people were chosen at random to approximate the role
    of arbiters. One was a permanent resident, while the other just happened to
    be in the middle of a decade-long vacation. Neither of them exhibited any
    signs of caring whether they were there or not. The only truly qualified
    person here was a bona fide arbitrator from Bungula. He had reportedly moved
    here to make sure proceedings such as this didn’t end up in kangaroo court.
    Anywhere else in the stellar neighborhood, most of these would be considered
    conflicts of interest, or at least inappropriate selections, but people here
    didn’t see it that way. If they were impacted by whatever had happened, then
    they were believed to have the right to decide the consequences and
    conclusion.
  
  
    A slapdash Gangsta was sucking his teeth repeatedly, out of boredom, as if
    waiting for someone else to start, except that this was his duty. He
    apparently knew this, and finally perked up. “All right. Let’s get goin’.
    Adherent Blower, what’s your accusation?”
  
  
    “It’s Boehler. Risto Boehler,” the investigator responded.
  
  
    “Is that your accusation?” Gangsta joked.
  
  
    “Hokusai Gimura stands accused of maliciously erasing the memories of seven
    innocent scientists.”
  
  
    “Okay,” Gangsta said. “Hokusai? Are ya guilty?”
  
  
    “I am not. I did know it would erase all of their memories, but I was told
    that it would not hurt, and I did it with no malice.”
  
  
    “‘Kay, cool. Go ahead and ask your questions, bro.”
  
  
    “Thank you. Madam Gimura, when did you first arrive on Varkas Reflex?”
  
  
    “Twenty-two thirty-nine,” she answered.
  
  
    “So, you were part of the original colony fleet?”
  
  
    “No,” she said truthfully. “I arrived in my own vessel.”
  
  
    “This vessel was much smaller than standard technological development in the
    2230s would allow, correct?”
  
  
    “I’m ahead of my time.”
  
  
    “And how exactly are you ahead of your time? Where were you educated?”
  
  
    “Earth. I was just born smart.”
  
  
    “When were you born?”
  
  “June 27, 1985.”
  
    “So that would make you three hundred and two years old. You’re a
    tricenterian.”
  
  
    Hokusai bobbed her head side to side. The reality was that she was much
    younger than that, because of all the time travel she had experienced, but
    she couldn’t say any of that. Fortunately, perjury didn’t seem to be a thing
    here, so okay. “Well, it’s more complicated than that, because of
    relativity.” That wasn’t quite a lie anyway.
  
  
    “Sure,” Risto began. “I’m just gathering some information. Let’s get to the
    real questions. You’re the one who invented what scientists refer to as
    dimensional gravity?”
  
  “Yes.”
  
    “How does it work?”
  
  
    “You would need at least three postgraduate degrees to have any hope of
    understanding it.”
  
  
    “I have equivalent-seven.” He didn’t say this to brag. Equivalent-seven
    wasn’t even all that much in this day and age. With no need to use one’s
    education to make money, and literally all the time in the universe,
    casually gaining profound amounts of knowledge over the course of several
    decades was commonplace. “But assume I don’t. Explain like I’m five. How
    does it work, at its most basic level?”
  
  
    Hokusai squirmed in her seat, and looked to her wife for help, but Loa could
    only frown at her. “Gravity is a force, enacted upon an object to a certain
    calculable degree, according to mass, density, and proximity. My technology
    generates a field of negative mass, extracted from another dimension. It
    doesn’t lower the gravity under your feet; it’s more like it gets between
    you and the gravitational object, so that the object can’t pull on you
    anymore. This energy can be manipulated to adjust your weight.”
  
  
    “Wow, that’s some smart five-year-old,” Risto remarked.
  
  
    Hokusai tried to dumb it down further. “Water makes you buoyant, so you can
    float on it. It doesn’t negate gravity, but it can make you feel weightless,
    because the water is trying to push you up at the same time. Think of my
    tech as just a lake of water that isn’t wet, and is made up of particles
    other than dihydrogen monoxide.”
  
  
    “What particles is it made of?”
  
  
    “Are you still five years old in this question?”
  
  
    “Fair enough, I’ll move on. Who did you work with to create this technology?
    Who else was on your team?”
  
  
    At this, the professional arbitrator, Jericho Hagen shifted in his seat, as
    if perturbed by the question.
  
  
    “No one.” Another truth, but it was hard to believe.
  
  
    “You did all by yourself?”
  
  “Yes.”
  
    “That’s impressive.”
  
  
    “I had decades upon decades to work on it.” That wasn’t totally true,
    though. Hokusai had indeed been inventing things since the 20th century, but
    dimensional gravity was a more recent endeavor.”
  
  
    “Still,” he went on, “others have had about as much time as you, and they
    never did it, so you must be something special.”
  
  
    “I must be,” she said.
  
  
    “When you came to our planet, you agreed to help us combat the high-gravity
    problem by letting us use your dimensional gravity technology, yes?”
  
  “I did.”
  
    “Yet you didn’t allow us to reverse-engineer or reproduce it, right? You
    handled every aspect of early construction, and didn’t let anyone else in?”
  
  
    “That’s not the whole truth. I trusted my apprentice, Pribadium Delgado with
    it.”
  
  
    “Yes,” Risto understood. “You trusted Miss Delgado, up until the point she
    disappeared. Then you disappeared as well, along with your wife.”
  
  
    “I didn’t disappear.”
  
  “Oh, no?”
  
    “I always knew where I was.”
  
  
    “Quite. But we didn’t, and still don’t. Care to share where you were during
    that time?”
  
  “I don’t.”
  “Don’t what?”
  
    “Care. I don’t care to share. That’s classified.”
  
  
    “Well, that’s a good segue. Let’s talk about the neural implant chips, and
    the classified data on them. Did you have anything to do with their
    creation?”
  
  
    Jericho shifted in his seat again.
  
  
    “I didn’t,” she said. “I wasn’t here, and hadn’t heard of them until
    yesterday.”
  
  
    “Yet you had control over them.”
  
  “Briefly.”
  
    “Enough time to push a button, and erase everyone’s memories.”
  
  
    “Enough time for that, indeed.”
  
  
    “Why did you do it?”
  
  
    “I was told the button would only purge the data on the chip, not affect the
    rest of their respective brains.”
  
  
    “But you knew it was a possibility?”
  
  
    “Of course it was a possibility. There was a possibility that, when I
    pressed the button, the whole building transmuted into gold. The chances
    were absurdly low, but still not zero. Osiris gave it to me, knowing full
    well I would use it, and probably sooner, rather than later. He knew the
    risks, and I accepted his consideration without spending time considering
    these risks myself.”
  
  
    Jericho could clearly bite his tongue no longer. Arbitrators were not
    usually meant to speak during the trial. Like the juries of ancient days,
    they were expected to only listen until deliberations began. He couldn’t
    suffer the ineptitude anymore, though. “You’re not asking her any real
    questions!”
  
  
    “I’m sorry?” Boehler asked.”
  
  
    Jericho stood up. “This is supposed to be a trial. You’re supposed to find
    out what she did, why she did it, and whether she’s a danger because of it.
    The four of us are then supposed to figure out what to do with her. You
    can’t just keep letting her off the hook. Where did she go after she
    disappeared? Don’t let her not answer that. How confident was she that the
    memory-erasing button was safe? Ask that question.  Make her tell you
    what this other dimension is where we’re getting our gravity. This isn’t the
    21st century anymore. There’s no such thing as proprietary privilege. Ask
    the damn questions!”
  
  
    Adjudicator Dazzlemist pretended to bang a gavel, and released a sort of
    barking sound with each one. “Mister Hagen, this is highly irregular!” He
    said it with about as much seriousness as a clown at a comedy club.
  
  
    “This is a joke! You don’t want justice for these people’s lives. Do you
    even know what life is? It’s memory. I’m two hundred and sixteen years old.
    I spent four of those in stasis on my way to Alpha Centauri, so I’m not
    really two-sixteen, I’m closer to two-twelve.”
  
  
    “You chose stasis for a six-year flight?” Gangsta questioned.
  
  
    “That’s not my point!” Jericho contended. “I didn’t make any memories during
    the trip. I was essentially dead. Because memories are all we have, the act
    of erasing someone’s memories is tantamount to murder. So let’s do a real
    trial, and figure it out.”
  
  
    Gangsta’s face changed in such a way to make his name sound a bit
    unrealistic. He finally lived up to his position as a world leader. “This
    isn’t a real trial. This is more of a mediation. We’re trying to determine,
    not the truth, but what we should do with that truth. We know that Madam
    Gimura erased the victim’s memories, and we know she didn’t do it on
    purpose, because we have testimony from Madam Nielsen, Miss Delgado, and Dr.
    Petrić. All we need to do now is decide if she’s too dangerous to stay
    on-world. I understand that you would prefer we make this all very formal
    and regulated, but your response to the lack of organization was a chaotic
    outburst of passion. I hope you can appreciate the irony in that.”
  
  
    Jericho sighed. “I do.”
  
  
    “Good. I have some questions of my own. “Dr. Petrić, you possess knowledge
    of dimensional gravity, correct?”
  
  “Indeed.”
  
    “As do you, Miss Delgado?”
  
  
    Pribadium didn’t know why she was being addressed, but had to answer, “yes.”
  
  
    “This place thrives on safety. There aren’t a lot of laws that we care
    about, but we care about that. I see no reason for you to fill out seven
    billion forms to request an assignment on a ship collecting hydrogen from
    this system’s mini-Neptune, Lycos Isledon. You wanna go, just go. The only
    reason our species used to have closed borders, visas, and passports is
    because people were greedy and dangerous back then. We got rid of that when
    we got rid of most of the motives for crime. Still, crime does exist,
    because people still have complicated motives. It would be equally difficult
    to categorize Madam Gimura’s actions as harmless as it would be to
    categorize them as malicious. I can’t have someone on my world who has
    erased seven people’s memories, and it doesn’t much matter whether she did
    it on purpose, or not. It throws off the equilibrium, and it has to be
    stopped before it gets out of control. She can go live somewhere else, which
    I know she’s capable of doing, because she’s three centuries old, and she’s
    done it before. My judgment is permanent exile. Thank you. You’re all
    dismissed.”
  
  
    Hokusai wanted to be upset, but the reality was that her technology was
    safe, and there was nothing particularly appealing about this planet, so she
    didn’t need to stay. He was right, she could live anywhere. So she would go
    without a fight.